


Real Life, But I’m hunting him down...

by Vdotpng



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), But not in a sexual way - Freeform, Friends to Frenemies to Lovers, Goes from 0 to 100 real fkn quick fr, Happy Ending, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), I had this idea months ago but i finally decided to post it now so ig, Im tryna do as many tws as i can but can’t remember all pls suggest if im missing something, Internalized Homophobia, LMAO, Listen to me when I say Dream Is Crazy As Fuck, M/M, Predator/Prey, Psychological Horror, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS I WROTE IN APRIL 2020 SO IF IT FEELS LIKE IT HAS A DIF VIBE IT. DOES., TW Claustrophobia, TW suffocation, The main four are the muffinteers but hey maybe other mcyts might show up, Update so i recently watched the invisible man so now this fic is finna get real epic, angsty mostly but theres gonna b some fluff in da middle, bitches will be getting hurt, dream acts really irrationally, dreamnotfound, george has ? A girlfriend lmao, george is rude, i hope anyway LMAO, imean at times anyway, jealous!dream, longfic, minecraft manhunt man go brrr, possessive!dream, sapnap is tired, she doesn’t die tho obvi, sugar daddy dream go brr, tags will continue to update, tw Nosocomephobia, tw aquaphobia, tw arachnophobia, tw arson, tw blood, tw car crash, tw fear of heights, tw guns, tw homophobia, tw panic attacks, tw some horror elements ithink, tw stalker behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vdotpng/pseuds/Vdotpng
Summary: The sight nearly made him drop his phone onto the cold, tile floor.In fact. Everything was cold. Suddenly. So. Cold. A shiver rippled uncomfortably through his body, while he was still trying to support himself.$100k was deposited into his account.By…. Dream.This literally couldn’t be real. At all.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 85
Kudos: 393





	1. Prologue

  
“NO—!” The brown-haired boy shouted, a sudden shriek pierced through the strangling silence of adrenaline and focus. 

_“Minecraft, but he’s hunting me down._ ”

In this installment to their cat-and-mouse game, Dream took on the role of the hunter, while George was the speedrunner. Whom, at the moment, was scampering across the desolate, yet hellish crimson-colored wastes, in hopes he could escape his figurative ‘cat’. 

“Come on Georgie-poo—I’m catching up~!! I promise I just wanna talk~.” Dream taunted as he landed another successful hit on his prey. 

The hunter didn’t have much, considering only 5 minutes earlier when crossing George’s crude dirt bridge over the lava lake to the fortress, a _very_ convenient ghast decided to shoot him off, and made him lose all his stuff. The popular youtuber only got back so quickly because he’d set spawn outside the portal, and left a chest with a few spare armour items, and weaponry. 

See, George used his first few minutes of the game rushing across the ocean to put distance between him and Dream, and missed four shipwrecks. Of which, containing enough iron for a full set of armor with 20 or so ingots to spare. _Not_ to mention the 5 or so emeralds from _each_ ship that would’ve really come in handy for the desert village and cleric he’d found. 

But. 

Since Dream took the risk of following him in here, the so-called _speedrunner_ could probably knock him in some lava to clear his inventory, destroy his bed, and kill him again to send him back to world spawn. The difficult part was just figuring out… How. 

Tick! 

“DREAM—“

George checked his health. 18 health points left, almost half-hunger, and 6 mutton were currently in his hot bar.

_How the hell was Dream even catching up???_

He snapped back into reality, going into third-person to survey the game world around him. They looked to be going up a pretty big hill that ended right before some sort of cliffside, or lava lake bordering what looked to be a distant Basalt Delta. Regardless, George didn’t want to risk going into a situation as dangerous as that. He had to think fast. 

Tick!

“Oh George~!!” 

Dream reminded him how close he was, by dealing another two hearts off of his heath. 

Think George. Come on.

_He noticed._ During this entire chase up the mountain’s rugged terrain Dream hasn’t really made any risky parkour jumps, or done the ‘Running and Placing Blocks Below You For a Boost Technique’... Which meant he had no building materials.

His hazel eyes darted around the screen with precision, as an escape plan formed itself in his brain. It’d be risky, but put at least a little more distance between them. 

As soon as he finished that thought, he whipped around, and sprint-smacked Dream _(for extra knockback)_ with the netherrack he’d gathered earlier to get himself out of any sticky situations if need be. Dream stumbled a few blocks down the incline, before he could begin hopping back up to his friend. “Finally, a fight— You literally have better stuff than me, you _can_ take me, you know that?” He laughed, until he noticed George hurrying up the mountain before stacking up to the ceiling on a one-block tower. “—Oh my god, George. Now this is just annoying.” 

Dream crouched, took out his stone pickaxe, and mined a few blocks so he could follow him up before his gamer tag left his rendering distance. But George wasn’t finished. He had luckily dug up into a small nether cave system, that led out onto a ledge right above the large lava lake. He dug himself out a tiny hole in the wall, and hid in it while he waited for the dullish yellow of his friend’s apparent _green_ skin to make itself known. 

“What the hell…? Where did you go—?“ 

Before Dream even got to finish his sentence, he was already falling through the air — down into the _‘inescapable without fire resistance’_ pit of blazing item loss. The boy on the run couldn’t help but exclaim out in post-panic joy. 

“ _YES—!_ “

The hunter stuttered for a moment.

“ _N O.”_

Just George’s god damn luck. _Of course._ Of course Dream had an enchanted gapple. 

Laughter that could only be described as sadistic erupted from George’s headphones, as he watched for a moment, stunned as his opponent stacked out of the lava —still ablaze but taking no damage. No thanks to those god-forsaken particles radiating from his character. 

Not only was he now fire-resistant for at least an entire 5 minutes, he also had godlike regen, absorption, and resistance for that same period. 

George had absolutely no choice other than to run. 

Once he jumped down from the small cave he’d stacked into, he ate a piece of mutton to regenerate and have a full sprint before blasting off like a firework rocket towards the portal. 

“Where’d you go, Georgie-Poo~? Come back, it won’t hurt that much~!!” 

“STOP.” George tried his hardest to sound serious, but it came out with a giggle. “Don’t call me Georgie-Poo either— it sounds weird.”

“But it sounds so _cute_ ~.” 

He just shook his head and nervously giggled once more as he continued to run. Dream is just… _so_ stupid. He knew the shippers were gonna _love_ this video. He could just imagine all the clips of their “funny/cute/gay” moments. 

“Whatever. I’m like— so close to the portal already. You suck at your job.” George snickered, trying to jab back at his playful friend. 

“Jeez, George, I’m just trying my best…! Sorry if that’s not good enough for you~.” He replied.

“...Try harder, then.” George smiled, as he nonchalantly stepped into the violent swirling magic of his portal, while watching a small speck on the disgustingly muddy red horizon bounce toward him. 

***

“WHAT!?“ 

“COME ON—“

George shrieked. As soon as he stepped foot out of the portal, he was set on fire, and his health was draining quick. That idiot lava trapped the portal home. Which then meant him dying to a ghast was a lie fabricated to— Oh my god. _‘I’m the idiot,’_ he silently cursed himself. 

“DIE—“ Dream boomed, as George panicked to put himself out. Even though he succeeded, he was _dangerously_ low, _out_ of food, in the _overworld_ where Dream could locate and kill him, _and_ he was just about to come through that very portal in under a minute. Think, idiot, think.

_Aha_ ~.

He turned around, and put the water from his bucket onto the ground for a moment so he could gather lava. With speed, and focus from the instinct to survive, he’d successfully re-armed the trap, and boxed it in obsidian so it was much more difficult to escape. 

Something the absurdly lucky Dream did not collect from any of the shipwrecks he looted, were _diamonds_ . Not to mention as it is, he _currently_ had a stone pick. 

“WHAT THE HELL??” 

As if on cue, Dream’s tag popped into existence in the overworld. He was confusedly swimming about in the lava, as he was still immune. But he just winded up in the portal blocks again, and back in the Nether. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO!!??” Dream hollered, his _top_ _quality_ mic barely able to handle the sheer force of his anger in his voice.

“Using your ingenious trap against you, is all~.” George giggled, and broke Dream’s bed, before wiping sweat off of his forehead. A huge grin stretched across his face. Run-ins with Dream like that never failed to spike his anxiety. 

He hated to admit, but he also _loved_ it when his friend shouted like that. _Especially_ when he was the one to cause it. It was uncommon, and quite scary… Yet…… Kind of _hot._

Unfortunately for the other youtuber however, his lucky streak was just running out. His fire-resistance, regeneration, and resistance all faded, just as an angry ghast spawned over the lava lake that guarded the unwelcoming, blood-colored bricks of a Nether Fortress over-yonder. 

Dream shook his head in shock at his situation, as he mouthed the words “You’ve got to be kidding me,” to no one in particular. 

The perfectly cube-shaped ghost shrieked, and a fireball hurled its way over to the near-defenseless green-smiley. 

The cursed entity landed a few impactful blows to both his health bar, and the weak Netherrack before the challenge complete achievement,“ _Return to Sender,”_ was granted to the Minacraftian assassin. But the youtuber wasn’t out of the woods yet. While trying to kill that _thing_ , he’d walked into one of the impact pits and accidently set himself on fire. Water was out of the question, and he’d eaten his regular golden apple while fighting George earlier in the Nether Fortress. 

Panic began to settle in as his heart pounded like a piston on a redstone clock. He shook his head frantically in disbelief while his eyes darted around his screen to find something, just _anything_ to keep himself alive. He was _still_ burning, with 5 hearts left.

“Please.” He breathed.

Tick! 

“ _Please.”_

_Tick!_

“PLEASE.”

_Tick!!_

_“PLEASE—“_

_T i c k._

_“_ **_P L E A S E—_ **“ 

**_T i c k !_ **

“ **_WHAT THE HELL!?”_ **

Dream shouted, slamming his hands down onto his desk, as George on the other hand erupted into screeches of triumph.

_Your home bed or respawn anchor went missing or was obstructed._

_“_ ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?”

“YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS—“

George was in the middle of celebrating when a soft knock at his door interrupted him. “-SSS— Huh??”

It opened to reveal a shorter female, tiredness evident on her face. She simply put a finger to her lips, in a silent ‘shush’ gesture, before closing the door back, and leaving the room. 

“Oh my god — sorry.” he chuckled, still staring at the door with fond eyes. 

“I don’t accept your apology, thank you.” Dream grumbled as he mined down a tree. He had to play his cards right if he wanted to win this. Though, unbeknownst to him, this would honestly kill the vibe from here on out. 

“No, no, not you, I meant that to my-er…. Girlfriend.”

Silence.

“…Girl…? Friend…????” Dream repeated, flabbergasted. George _was_ still single, right? He’s just too… Well. George. For a girlfriend. No offense, of course.

“Yeah.” George blandly answered back, as his character resumed life and began hopping across desert dunes on the hunt for a tall, dark, and handsome man. 

“Like. Really. Really, really? A real—“ 

“Yes, a real girl, Dream. Jeez, what’s so hard to imagine about that?” He joked, and rolled his eyes, though he knew the other couldn’t see it.

“Well… You suck at being like — ...suave and stuff. There’s almost no way.” Dream leaned back in his chair, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Nice to know you believed in me. Anyway, I’ve got a nice personality I guess. That could make up for it.” He sighed. He knew this was going to be difficult.

Dream is… very protective of him. He knew that. Which is why he waited a bit before he announced his new relationship status. But it seemed to do no good. Regardless, the whole thing of being single had been eating him up inside. _Especially_ during the great quarantine of early 2020. So, only a few months after it ended, and the world returned to… some form of normal, he finally decided to dip his toes in the ocean that was the dating scene. After a lot of failed blind dates, and normal dates, he made a connection with someone. 

Her name was Cassie. She had long, raven hair that stretched down nearly to her rear, but she usually kept it up in a huge bun. She had cute, round glasses that framed her face, and the most darling freckles and button nose. _Not to mention in general she looked a little like…_

She was a nerd, like him. Into video gaming, enjoyed anime, and was a little bit of a coder. She was a talented artist, and had a beautiful voice as well. She was basically everything he could ask for in someone. 

Sure, Dream would be a little unhappy with the arrangement, but George wasn’t alone anymore. Like, love-wise. It didn’t hurt as much when Dream made any of his stupid comments or flirts when they’d talk any more, and his secret desire to be with Dream was dwindling as well. In no time, will it simply not matter any more, and he’ll just be…

_Normal._

Dream can have his life, and he’ll have his. And they can _stay friends_. That was more important than anything. 

“Oh my god — George I totally do believe in you. You’re a literal gift to this world. I just didn’t think you’d get one like — until later or something.” 

Unfortunately, for George, he had no clue that Dream actually returned his feelings.

Clay never was much into girls. Or anyone, really. He mostly just had them for show, or to keep his friends off his ass with all the gay jokes. In all honesty, all he knew was that he had a soulmate. And one day, they’d reveal themselves. No matter the gender, or race, or body type, he knew he’d accept them. Because they would love him. And he would love them even more. 

He never would've guessed it’d be that one screaming kid from mcpvp from years ago was that very soulmate, but he honestly wasn’t complaining. 

George was just so… Unique from everyone he’d ever met before. Not to mention absolutely _adorable_ . He just loved the videos where he _‘forced’_ George into doing a face-cam, because he finally had an excuse to watch him in real time with all of his quirks. His smile was a ray of sunshine. His laugh, bubbly and sweet. Don’t even get him started on that accent of his. It felt smooth like butter, and was sweet as candy to his ears. He just couldn’t get enough of the man.

Yet, all of this was an understatement. George was far more impeccable than words could even describe. He couldn’t shake the urge to be around him as much as he could, and he could only thank the lord for how much George actually put up with that in return. 

He’s felt this way for nearly 4 years now, but in all honesty, being friends with George was alright enough for him. But with that _girl_ now in the picture… _She_ could easily change everything between them for the worst within an instant. That thought crushed him like a falling anvil.

But once more, that’s just the least of his worries.

What if George became too occupied with… _her,_ to spend time with him? Their special relationship, just gone for some girl — met off of a dating app. 

It infuriated him, but it’d never happen. Right? George still cares for him. His best friend, Clay? Comes first. 

“I’m just. Lucky. I guess...” The british boy hummed in response, a soft yawn following a few moments later.

…

“Soooo....” 

Dream started, sucking in a breath as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. 

“Do you just wanna like—I dunno. Continue this tomorrow…? You sound sleepy George.” 

“N- no… I’m fine. I planned to sleep in tomorrow. If I don’t continue I’ll lose my excuse privileges,” he sighed, checking the time on his computer. 

04:45.

God Damn.

Dream checked his clock too.

“ _George_.” 

His voice was soft, fond, and so relaxing to the drowsy boy. He wanted to close his eyes so badly...

“ _Dream_...“

He could hear it in the brunette’s voice. Ignoring his protest, he pressed the ‘stop record’ button. 

“We’re just gonna have to record another day. You need rest, George.”

“I can— Let’s just get it over with. I was about to win anyway,” George still tiredly tried.

“I know, and I _can’t_ let you win. So I’ll make you sleep instead.”

“Asshole.”

“Language.” 

“You’re not even recording anymore. I can cuss as much as I fucking want, thank you.”

Dream just rolled his eyes as he left the game, and closed down his recording software for the night. 

“Idiot.” 

George smiles.

_“The Onceler looking…”_

**“TAKE THAT BACK—“**

The boys burst into a laughter fit at the absurdity, and stupidity of each other. 

“You suck at insults~.” Dream teased.

“Funny you say that, considering you just fell for my trap.”

_Wheeze._

“Wait— Oh come on you KNOW what I meant.” George huffed.

“Your _trap~...?”_ Dream heaved, reminiscing for a bit, before realizing he’s probably laughing now from sleep deprivation again. 

“Fuck you, Dream.” George sighed, idly gazing at Dream’s stupid little avatar.

“Love you too, Georgie-poo~.” Dream purred in reply, as a small, relaxed smile made its way across his lips.

“I’ll talk to you later… I guess. Night Dream.” 

“Night.” 

…

“I love you, Dream.” 

_User disconnected from your channel._

A soft sigh left Clay’s lips, as his smile faded. 

…

“I Love you too.”

  
  


________________________________

  
  


For the next few weeks, George’s online activity slowly decreased. He was rarely able to attend, let alone host streams, or be in videos.

Every. Time. There was an excuse. 

“Sorry— We’re going to the movies.”

“Aw man I was taking Cassie out tonight.”

“Oops made swimming plans with Cass.”

“Busy. Gonna be hanging with Cassie.” 

The only thing he was around for, was posting cute pictures of him and his girlfriend on Instagram and having fun. 

Dream hated it. How _happy_ they looked together. 

George wouldn’t even get on calls with the team anymore without _her_ over his shoulder or something. His entire life just revolved around that one chick he’d only known for 2 months and a half, over his very best, _bestest_ friend he’d known for a whole 6 years. 

It was just so unfair.

Dream flopped down on his bed, letting out a groan of frustration. He’d just asked George to hang out again, but unsurprisingly he was occupied with _‘her’_. 

It felt like some sort of void was eating away at him. All the energy and enthusiasm he had was draining out of him like air does a balloon. 

Slowly…

_Slowly…_

Until nothing was left, except a shriveled piece of garbage on the floor. A depressing remnant of what once was. 

Earlier, he’d tweeted he was going to stream for a bit, but at this point? There was no point. 

Sapnap was busy, Bad was busy, Callahan was busy, Allysa was busy, Ponk was busy, George wasn’t ever an option, and he didn’t want to pester anyone else. It wasn’t like he had a _problem_ with streaming alone. But at the moment, he just didn’t feel like it.

He just knew their fan base would spam donations questioning what’s happening. 

The fans noticed his sulking. His dull tone. Moody behavior. Short streams. Lack of activity, and most importantly the strange passive-aggressiveness towards George. 

The comments, stream chat, twitter replies, and even his close friends all began questioning his weirdness. But he just lied, or laughed it off. He hated being vulnerable. As it is, that’s the very reason why he feels like complete shit _now._

  
  


***

One night he was up late, editing his newest video.

_“Minecraft, but every 5 minutes, there’s a disaster.”_

He played with Sapnap and BadBoyHalo, as they tried to speedrun the game. The plug-in would spawn in different scenarios, like a zombie apocalypse, earthquake, volcano, forest fire, tsunami, and a few others. Some could even be combined to happen at the same time. It was a genius idea, courtesy of Bad. 

It was one hell of a hard challenge, and as it is, they had to end it in the nether because a sinkhole + lava tsunami happened, trapping Bad away in the nether fortress away from Dream and Sapnap. But, it was a good cliffhanger to leave at, considering the high stakes of Bad having all the blaze rods, and being trapped by himself with seemingly no escape. Something that their 450,000 like goal to continue the mini-series would actually have weight to. 

Dream loved raising the bar in his videos, coming up with new concepts, or innovating his ideas further. And he knew his audience loved it. He knew his audience would love it. So after the record button was off, he went straight to editing, because he just knew this was gonna be a huge one, Sapnap and Bad even agreed themselves. But, they didn’t stay long after to chat, leaving the TeamSpeak shortly for different reasons each. 

In honesty, Dream didn’t mind it though. He kind of wanted time alone to think. 

…

…

…

**_“User joined your channel.”_ **

His breath caught in his throat. After being in such comfortable silence, it was strange hearing an unexpected voice all of a sudden, even if the robotic one used to alert someone joining the voice chat. 

_Wait._

Someone joined the voice chat.

His tired eyes glanced over at the clock on his computer. 

2:53 AM. Oops. He hadn’t even meant to stay up that late. 

“Dude.” 

Sapnap’s voice calmed his tension, since he still hadn’t checked who joined. 

“What time is it for you? 3 AM???”

“Well, I wanted to get this video out soon. This one was especially crazy, so it’d hold off the fans for a bit.” He replied, monotonous.

“What is just one night gonna change. Most viewers aren’t even gonna see it until tomorrow anyway.” 

“Fair point.”

…

…

...

“Have you checked the comments on the last video…?”

“...Yeah.”

…

“Yeah.” Sapnap sighed, presumably running his hand through his hair. “I honestly really miss him too. Me and my girl aren’t even like that.” Why is Sapnap ruffling his hair so loud—

“I know.” Dream snapped back, not really wanting to talk about _them_ at the moment. 

He literally was just calm, vibing, if you will. Peacefully editing and _dreaming_ up other new plugin ideas. If it wasn’t for Sapnap, He’d still be calmly in his own world. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, in thought. He’d had an idea for music to use in the next scene, but the mention of George put him at a mental blank. 

…

“Bro, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve just gotta say it. You need a break.”

The dirty blonde silently looked back up at his screen, as if he were staring at the other male through it. 

“You’ve been sounding real wack lately. And I know you don’t want to open up to either I or Bad. Or anyone else really.”

…

“Maybe take like, a vacation, or something?” He twirled his brunette locks around his finger, thinking about different ways to cheer his friend. 

“I dunno, just something to like. Relax and enjoy life outside of this… persona.” 

…

Dream hummed in response. A good sign, at least. 

“I… think I just might do that.” 

In reality, he had another reason for suddenly listening however. 

He really wasn’t listening to Sapnap at first, thinking of different challenges he could record next. He thought about doing his newer favorite, Manhunt, Boss Rush edition. But with the mention of going on a hiatus… Gave him an amazing- _er_ idea. 

It was time to raise the bar again. And boy, _would he raise it as high as it could possibly go_. 

***

Later that morning, a groggy George woke up to a message from his friend. Specifically, Dream. 

_That’s something I haven’t seen in a while,_ He noted. 

  
  
  


**Dream :)**

Hey. 

So uh. 

Check your paypal, 

and call me later, K?

_sent 06:26_

**????  
** **What** **are you  
** **doing now?**

_sent 12:21_

**  
ugh dreammm**

_sent 12:22_

_***_

He rolled his eyes at the screen, and dragged himself to the bathroom, scrolling through different social medias before checking his paypal.

The sight nearly made him drop his phone onto the cold, tile floor.

In fact. Everything was cold. Suddenly. So. Cold. A shiver rippled uncomfortably through his body, while he was still trying to support himself.

$100k was deposited into his account.

By…. **_Dream_** **.**

This literally couldn’t be real. At all. 

A friendly _blink_! brought the man back to earth, as he quickly fumbled in blindly checking the notification. 

A Tweet, from Dream.

  
  


**Dream** _@dreamwastaken_

**Hey! Just letting everyone know, I’m gonna take a small break for a bit. Maybe like. A month or two. I’ve got a few vids pre-scheduled tho so don’t worry, content will be on the way still. + I’ll be posting a bit on insta so if y’all wanna see that :) Love you guys! <3 **

_What the hell has he missed..?_

  
  



	2. Run the command, George.

  
Dream, when being referred to, is usually never singular. Most commonly, when someone mentions Dream, they also mention George. They just go hand-in-hand with each other. For example...

Peanut butter and…? 

Salt and…?

Fire and…? 

...

Dream and George. 

They just… Fit together so well. S _o, so_ well. And everyone saw it. How could they not? 

The channel simply wasn’t the same without George. Bad and Sapnap were indeed fan-favorites as well, but they were more like… Supporting characters to the main pair.

Dream and George.

The iconic duo. Though, left to be a relic of the past. Because _nowadays_ , the _new_ pair is George and Cassie. 

It rolls off the tongue nicely, too. Almost better than—

…

  
  


“Wow. You picked up for once.”

“Shut up. What the actual _hell???”_ George began, “Like. Okay. I needed a new computer the first time. Like, literally, that was you just getting me a Christmas gift or something. But a _whole_ ‘hundred k, Dream????”

“Don’t worry, this one has a catch too.”

The brunette laughed. That cute little laugh of his. That one giggle that just makes Dream’s heart melt. _That_ one.

“There always is. What do you want?” 

He could hear the squeaking of George moving around in his chair, getting comfortable. Won’t be for long. 

“I wanted to play Manhunt Classic with you. It’s been a while.” 

The britt gasped softly, excitement oozing from his voice. “Oh my god— Yes! It has been a bit but—Ah shit…” His excitement was short-lived, as he frowned, staring longingly at Dream’s silly little green avatar. “I think… I’d already planned to go to some convention with Cassie today… I’m so sorry Dream. We could still play later, though!” He tried to end it on a playful note, knowing his friend would probably be hurt by the refusal. Again. 

But Dream’s voice became low, and serious. “Aaaaaaaaah…. That’s the catch though, Georgie-poo~.

..We’re not playing in minecraft.”

…

“Wh-“ He nervously giggles 

“W- What? Dream— Come on—“

“I’m serious, George.”

Both men were silent for a moment, the soft background noise in both sides of the call seemingly feeling amplified. 

Dream restarted the conversation, with a hushed tone.“I’ll just leave you with this, because I’ve got a plane to catch soon— … You might want to pay attention to those insta posts, George. They’ll come in handy.”

“H- Handy? What???? Dream what are—“

_blip._

_——————————————————_

“He hung up on me.” 

George tried for a few moments to call him again, but Dream was offline, and wasn’t picking up. He did say he was getting on a plane, so it could be that… But then again… 

_Bzz.!!_

Instagram notification.

@DreamWasTaken posted.

There were a few pictures of presumably him at the airport or something, though he had a smiley-faced mask on- Like the smile from his profile picture and skin. He had on a lime green hoodie with a cute design of his little dreamlet guy sitting on a globe. 

The caption simply read, _new merch design :)_

George stared at the pictures for a moment, taking in the detail of each one. Damn, Clay was tall. And somewhat fit. The Hoodie and Shorts look was honestly really basic, and _very_ American, but it looked cute on him anyway. 

... _Really cute_.

—BECAUSE it’s a cool new merch design, and honestly Dream could look good in anything….Because he indeed supports his handsome friend in a totally normal **friend** way. 

Yeah. 

Oh Well. 

George did indeed spend his day with Cassie. 

First, they went on a picnic in a nearby park. It was a clear, sunny day out, which so far has been a rare occurrence this year. So they basically had to spend the day enjoying nature, and the earth or whatever. 

They were having a good time, until an ant army somehow infiltrated their picnic basket unnoticed. Obviously, both ran around screaming bloody murder once a few ants skittered out of a sandwich they were both about to eat, and up their arms. At least they got a good laugh out of it, once George literally got the ants out of his pants. 

He liked this. Spending time with the girl he’d probably marry one day… And not thinking about…

_Dream_. 

*** 

See, about a month ago… There was a stream, hosted by both Dream and Sapnap. He, Dream, BadBoyHalo, and Sapnap were playing Manhunt, Boss Rush live. 

They explained it to new viewers,

Minecraft, but he’s hunting me down… Beat at least 3 Minecraft Bosses, and you win. You have one extra life, but if the hunter kills you, or you run out of lives, it’s game over. 

George and Dream were the speedrunners, against Sapnap and Bad, who were hunters. It was about 2 Hours in, He and Dream had already Defeated the Wither, thanks to a Smite 3 enchanted book they found in a mineshaft. Now, they were headed to an Ocean monument. 

Both of them were in a boat together, while Sapnap read off donos as he mined. A new one came in, set at 30 dollars. They quieted down so the text to speech voice could read for them. 

“Hi SapPap. I just wanted to say that I love all of you guys so much and you all make me so very happy. Also, can someone get George and Dream to kiss with socks off pretty please?”

The two were sailing at sunset, and many older fans in the chat were making the “Two Men On A Date” reference. It was probably what also inspired the end of that dono. But, they got stuff like this literally all the time. They just laughed it off, and ignored it. But this time, Dream replied, and that was the problem. 

“Not gonna lie, I’d be down. George’s lips do be lookin kinda soft doe….” 

Everyone was silent, except for the chat, of course. He said it like it was nothing. But it was _something_ to George. 

The boy felt his cheeks— No his face— No— His entire body temperature rise at that very moment, his face redder than a poppy. They were all on a video-call, excluding Dream who refused to turn on his camera. So the second George’s eyes made it over to his second monitor, laughter burst out from the other three.

“YOOOOOOO—“ Sapnap heaved between laughs, “I’M NOT EVEN JOKINNNGGGGG HIS FACE IS SO REDDDD” 

His heart rate sped up, as Dream honked louder, a few wheezes, tea kettle noises, and coughs mixed in for good measure. It honestly made him question if it was the hardest his friend ever laughed in his life. It sounded like so. 

His words barely formed on his tongue, only meekly being able to squeak out a “Sh- shut up…!!!” Doing so only gave more fuel to the fire, as they just laughed even harder at him. 

“How are—“ Dream cut himself off with a wheeze, failing to get air back into his lungs. “Are you getting _Redder~?”_

He was. George groaned dramatically in response, trying to drown the boys’ laughter out. It worked somewhat, because to the others, the joke just got old enough. But Dream on the other hand still wasn’t done.

“C’mmmonnnnn Georrrrrgge~. You know you wanna kiss me too, don’t you Georgie-Poo~?” He was doing that one deep-ish voice that the britt _loved_ , too. 

Lord have mercy, he was going to die today. 

He couldn't even reply. How _could_ he reply. He was _WAAAYYYY_ too flustered at this point to even say anything. If he tried refusing, it’d sound like he was being ‘hard-to-get.’ If he said yes as a joke, it’d follow him his entire life. And if he stayed silent… They’ll _really_ think it’s a silent yes. He literally was trapped. God damn it, _Dream_. 

“I- I…—” 

Unfortunately, fortunately for George, the gods answered his prayer. Somewhat.

Electricity went out. All of it, in his flat. More so, in his part of the city. After grabbing his phone to figure out “What-The-Fuck-Happened.” Turns out, there was a huge car accident nearby that took out one of the essential utility poles in the area. Great. I guess.

After informing a very distressed Cassie about the issue, he went back to his room to find 14 missed discord calls, and 5 missed calls all from Dream. 

His cheeks flushed red again at the thought of his name. Did they think he was mad at them and just. Left? Did Dream think he was mad at _him_? He was pulled out of his ‘what if’s’ when his phone began ringing again. 

He’s calling again. 

He hesitated to answer, a little fearful of what awaited him on the other line, but he slid the accept call button across anyway. 

“Holy fuck— George?” A raspy, somewhat unrecognisable voice spoke on the other end. 

He checked the caller id over just to make sure his eyes weren’t tricking him, but it was confirmed, it was Dream. 

“Oh my god— Okay— Listen. I know you’re pissed but— Please. I’m sorry. I- I- I— ...I shouldn’tve kept on like—Teasing you when you were super uncomfortable.” 

His voice cracked several times during his apology, and he sniffled a bit afterwards. George was a little too stunned to say anything yet, so Dream just took a breath, before starting again. 

“I'm literally just… So sorry. I don’t even know how to put the words together right. I- if uhh… You want me to stop. Like. Flirting n’ all that— I- I could stop that completely too—“

“No.” 

…

George answered before thinking. He honestly enjoyed when Dream would try to charm him, though, minus the _try,_ because he always succeeded. He was just _that_ good at making him feel like he was as valuable as diamonds, or ender pearls in a speedrun. Better yet, he was even treated like it. He didn’t mind it, but he felt it was a little weird around other people. More so, their friends and viewers. To outsiders, their relationship looked much more homosexual. Or in this case, _homiesexual_. 

Though at the same time, he couldn’t even blame those people. They were as close as magnets. Maybe even closer. 

But he isn’t gay, he doesn’t like boys, and he definitely didn’t want to give another reason for their fans to ship them, or write weird fanficiton. 

But Dream was… Different. So much more different than anyone else he’d ever met. 

He hated this damned… _Friend_ crush, he hated how every time Dream opened his mouth, his heart fluttered just from the sound of his voice, or how when they’d team together, Dream acted like he was George’s knight in shining armour. He couldn’t take this anymore. 

“I mean…” George began, continuing his answer to the patience of the boy on the other line. “I err…. I’m okay with the flirting. It just. Um. Gets out of hand, sometimes, Dream.” 

…

“Ye— … Mmmyyeaah…. I- I dunno I just—“ 

“It's okay. Really, I mean it. You didn't know.”

**_He knew._ **

“....Thanks, George.”

“Of course, just dont worry about it.” 

There was shared comfortable silence between the two, relief washing over each boy like the most gentle of tidal waves. Relief for one, as their relationship seemingly isn’t too damaged. And for the other, that it isn’t just about the fanservice. 

“... Hey, Dream…?”

“Ye- Yeah?” He sounded a little conflicted, as if he was previously in deep thought. 

“I think I’m… Going to take a break for a bit. I really need some time to relax a- and—“ 

“George, you don't even need an excuse. If you need time, you need time. I’ll be here for you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

George smiled, and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. “Mmkay I… Gotta go. I think Cassie is a little spooked from the outage, and I should be there for her.” 

“Yeah, you go do that.” The other line sighed, sounding somewhat displeased, but He decided to take it as ‘sadness from him leaving the stream.’

“Talk to you later, okay?”

“In a while, crocodile.” 

“You’re so stupid.”

“Love you too Georgie~.” 

“ _Oh my god—_ BYE.” 

The britt hung up with an eye roll, processing the end of their conversation. Dream’s just… So god damn sappy. 

…

Idiot boy. 

***

By the time George returned from his thoughts, Cassie was leading him out of the Convention hall, and back out onto the street. She was rambling about something there, but her neutral tone probably meant she wasn’t too worked up about it. Mostly, George was shocked with himself of how long he’d been able to zone out. Then again, they’d only been there a good hour or so. Maybe less than that. It was a very small event.

“It could have been organised a little bit better, and had more panels, but it was still kinda fun.” She looked over at George for input. He stared, dumbfounded for a good five seconds, before nodding, and speaking. 

“I wish they had demos for the games they displayed there. There were a couple of cool concepts I guess, but it would’ve been better to actually play it.” 

She nodded in agreement, and for a while, they both walked in relaxed silence until they got back to town.

Even though he walked these streets often, and honestly knew them like he knew minecraft’s code, he liked looking around and marveling at the elegant storefronts in the area. The sun was beginning to set, and the sunny day from earlier had almost vanished, now the sky covered in a non-threatening thin sheet of rolling fluff. At least they won’t have to worry about rain. 

Eyeing a particular parlor, George tugged on his partner’s hand a bit, just to get her attention.

“What do you think about grabbing some fro-yo? I want sweet stuff.” 

She looked over in the general direction his eyes wandered, until she too found the store. “Oh~? Am I not sweet enough for you??” 

“Y- You…!!! Know wh- what I m- meant!!” 

He used his free hand to cover his reddening face. “That’s so stupid…” 

“What’s so stupid is your budgeting skills. You can have cold, ice sugar yogurt—that you have to pay for—or, you could have me~. I’m free, pretty, and warm, so your teeth won't be chattering after you enjoy this treat~.” She hummed. 

“Mmmm~.” He chuckled, grabbing his chin in pretend thought. “That does sound like a nice offer…—“

“—Actually nevermind. Deal’s off. I want ice-cream too.” 

“OH MY GOD”

“Sorry!!~” 

________________________________

**_Gate I14 is ready for boarding._ **

The bland, but common robotic voice sang throughout the terminal, sending a spike of excitement to the otherwise usually collected floridian boy. The rumbling sound of his, and a few other suitcases across the tile floor only mounted the suffocating pressure coursing through each of his veins.

It’d been about 3 hours of waiting, due to the deep-cleaning delay. After the Covid-19 fiasco, many businesses were required by law to deep clean their services. Even though the vaccine was in it’s final test trials, nobody wanted another outbreak. So wearing masks, temperature checks, and deep cleaning everything was still a huge thing. But, he could deal with that. The waiting. In only ten some hours, he’d be with _George_. 

_It felt like a dream._

Ha.

Passport check, security, and temperature check flew by within an hour. Most were still scared to fly, so most flights never reached their 40 person maximum limit. Luckily, his was probably around 24 or so people. Not to mention that airports deployed more employees to the floor regularly now, so more employees meant a smoother, and quicker process. 

Lined up, six feet apart, he and the rest of the passengers boarded the plane, and found their assigned seats. 

After getting himself situated, he picked up his phone, and began tapping away at some idle game he downloaded a few hours before to occupy himself. 

**_“Heellllo there passengers. We will be taking off in the next ten minutes. Please make yourself comfortable, and fasten your seatbelts.”_ **

He buckled himself in, and stretched out a bit, before checking one last time that his phone really was on airplane mode. Then, it was back to playing the stupid game he got.

The crackle of speakers filled the somewhat unsettling silence of the aircraft, announcing they were ready for takeoff. 

Dream sucked in a breath, preparing himself mentally for what he was about to experience. Sure, he’d been on a plane before, but he hated heights, of course. So he reminded himself a few times to keep his eyes away from the windows. 

The sudden movement of taking flight was pretty smooth, but bumpy enough to form a small pit in his stomach. Actually— _great_. That was another thing. He was about to take so many flights in the next few weeks. This is literally going to be horrible. But hey, conquer your fears, I guess. 

All that thinking, and planning, and calm-ish music from his mobile game swept him into a gentle slumber, one he welcomed considering _bitches_ did go to bed kinda late last night. 

It’s him. He’s _‘bitches’_.

***

  
  


He woke up to hushed voices of those getting their luggage, conversating about the ride quality, and people who needed to call somebody for a ride to their hotel. 

Checking his phone, it read 2:45AM, which would've been correct if he were still in Florida. He rested his finger on the home button for a second, before the device woke itself as well. Greeted with not only his home page, the time now read 8:46 AM. That did seem plausible though, because the sun had already begun its journey across the sky. 

Without any more questions asked, he grabbed his luggage, phone, and lined up with the other passengers. 

Unexpectedly, customs and temperature check took way too long. About an hour total for both? Not to mention _during_ temperature check, there was a scare of someone’s temperature being a little too high _not_ to be positive. It also just so happened that someone was in line _right in front of him._ He and they were both swabbed on the spot, and came up negative. Faulty machinery. Thank lord that test results registered so quickly, otherwise if he were in this position 4 months ago, he’d be in quarantine for the next 22 days. 

So now, some 3 hours later, he was finally leaving St. Charleston airport in a lyft. He’d set up a reservation in a bed and breakfast nearby, and had to check in before noon. 

Deciding not to make small talk with his driver, he quietly admired the greyish, dull streets of greater London. It kinda sucked he most likely won’t be here for long to really take in the culture, but he’d rather just be wherever George is. 

He always rathered that. 

In fact.

He checked his phone for any notifications. Besides twitter and youtube alerts, there was nothing of interest. Certainly no George. 

“ _Patience,”_

He mentally scolded himself. 

_“You’re literally here. You’re going to see him in a few hours.”_

_…_

It did nothing to ease him. Before he could even try to protest any more against himself, discord was already open to he and George’s private messages. He fondly read over their last conversation, craving any interaction with the other he could get. 

**George** _(aka) scooter boy, Poo_

**George** _26/9/2020_

_I stg if you send me one more mf_

_picture of the stupid duck in the fountain_

**Dream** _26/9/2020_

**You’ll what, huh?**

**George** _26/9/2020_

_I_

_dunno yet_

_but I’ll make you_

_pay for it_

**Dream** _26/9/2020_

**Haha you wish**

**There’s actually no way you coult beat me in a fight**

George _26/9/2020_

_Bet_

_Also._

_Coult????_

**Dream** _26/9/2020_

**Shut your the up**

_George 26/9/2020_

_Omg_

**Dream** _26/9/2020_

**Hahaha ily**

  
  
  
  


**…**

  
  
  
  


________________________________

Life was good.

Cassie stayed the night, again, after they’d both fell into an ice-cream-induced sleep-coma. 

He must’ve moved them both to his room, as there could be almost no other reason they were in his bed. After all, their relationship isn’t at _that_ level yet. And they both like it that way.

He appreciated that as he trekked to the washroom.

George turned on the tap, and splashed some water onto his face to wake himself completely.

His mind, now less sleep-fogged, began to automatically compute today’s plans. Eat food. Goof off. Eat snack. Pack for trip. Goof off. Eat snack. Work on plug-ins.

Speaking of that— Trip. Yes. He’d be gone around this time the day after next. October was reunion season for Cassie’s family, and she wanted to bring George with her to meet them. 

Was he excited? Not… Necessarily. But spending time with Cass, and seeing her excited face would make up for it. Also, there was something in him that was curious about where she came from, what her family was like, and the sort. 

They didn’t live too far, just about on the outskirts of greater London. From what she explained, it was a quaint town based by a mountainous region. Though it wasn’t completely off the grid, because travelers would pass through the area on occasion. 

George finished the rest of his morning routine, and changed into some casual-wear, as he went to cook breakfast. 

After spending a good minute blankly staring into the fridge,he decided on making some waffles and bacon. For the two of them. As the bacon happily sizzled, and the waffles silently crisped themselves a gold coat, the british boy mindlessly scrolled twitter. LIking a few stan tweets, and responding to a few DMs. Opening his notifs, his newest tagged was of an account with a pink Dream profile picture. It got him thinking. 

He really hasn’t been spending a lot of time with Dream lately. Mostly on purpose to keep unwarranted feelings from reoccurring, but he could at least holler at him every now and then. Maybe he could do so later today…. Yeah.

But besides that, the day was honestly super uneventful. But it was expected, days before important plans like this were always dull in comparison. Maybe because there was anticipated action, or the boredom came from the feeling of having to wait itself. 

Eh. He didn’t really know. He’s not a philosopher or anything. 

George decided to go to the store and pick up a few travel essentials, and some snacks to eat a little later on. After getting everything he needed, he began his trek back through Aldi’s many assorted isles to pay for his stuff. 

He decided to avoid a little human interaction today, by taking the slightly-faster self checkout route. He kind of still took the whole ‘distancing’ rules seriously out of the part of him that was a germaphobe, and the other who just didn't feel like talking to many people today. More than anything, he wanted to 

hurry up and get home so he could do something fun, like play some hypixel, or cuddle with Cat. 

On his way out of the sliding doors, his thoughts were interrupted when he ran into a stranger. They both fell to the ground, George dropping a few bags, and the other man dropping his wallet. 

“ _Oh my god—_ I- I’m sorry—“ George started as he fixed his mask, dust himself off, and felt around for his lost items, when his hand found his bags, his eyes widened in surprise. 

The man had already put all the fallen items back into the totes, as well as grabbed his wallet, and was already on his way into the store. Huh. That didn’t stop George from muttering a near-inaudible “Thank you,” a courtesy to his own satisfaction. 

The trip home was rather uneventful as well, spent mainly scrolling twitter, and spying on stan accounts. However, a certain tweet caught his eye. 

**『Marii』 ∥ BLM!!! @MariahNotFound**

_okok so UMMM anybody notice that dream was in an airport in that last ig post_ 🧐🧐🤔🤔😳😳 jus sayynnnn

5 replies. He tapped to view them. 

**!!Jay!!** 💖💖💖 **@JaylynWasntTaken**

_omg yea i kinda thot that was kinda weird asf but if i actually say anything abt it bc then i come off as an over-analyzing stan 😬😬😬 👉👈_

**#1 schlatt simp 💞 @KariaLuvsSchlatt**

_plane to WHERE THO…_ 🧍🏾

His eyes glazed over the other insignificant three, but that _did_ successfully strike a thought in him. Why _was_ Dream at the airport? Especially after that… Strange call from yesterday. 

He should ask about that. 

As soon as he was off his train home, and in his uber, he opened discord and scrolled to Dream and His’ direct messages. 

**Dream (aka)** _dreweam, florida man, White Boy, PEE, Glay, pissbaby_

George couldn’t help but giggle at the aliases, reminiscing why each was given. 

**George** _26/9/2020_

**Omg**

**Dream** _26/9/2020_

Hahaha ily

Oh fuck. That’s right, he left him on read. George couldn’t help but cringe at himself. He _himself_ hated being left on read, and here he was… 14 days later FINALLY replying to the dm.

“God, I suck.” He thought out loud.

_George is typing…_

**George** _8/10/2020_

**Hey**

**What was with the weird call yesterday**

He waited for a bit. Dream usually insta-replied to his DMs, or otherwise, it took hours. He checked the time on his phone.

**_20:16_ **

It would probably be like, early morning in Florida or something. Damn it. He’ll just try later.

_Dream is typing…_

His breath hitched in his throat.

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

Don’t worry about it

Just get home with your groceries safe mk? :) 

_He could’ve died right there._

He clicked the power button on his phone and leaned back in his seat, releasing a breath he didn’t notice he was holding. 

_How the fuck does Dream know he went shopping???_

He wanted to— Just do something. Throw his phone. Scream. Rip his hair out. This wasn’t funny anymore. He didn’t know. His thoughts were going wild, and his body was shaking—No— **_Shivering._ **

He was cold all of a sudden. His bones felt like they were freezing but—he additionally felt so _warm._ He was sweating, and his head began to hurt from the heat. _Was he overheating?_

_Bzzt.!_

He received another notification. Whatever spell he was in, he snapped out of the second he felt the vibration in his hand. _Should he check it?_

_It won’t hurt,_ **_right?_ **

It was.

From Discord.

He pressed his thumb to the home button, unlocking his device and sending it directly to the discord app. 

To his fear, yet anticipation, the notification opened right back into his direct messages from Dream. 

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

Don’t worry about it

Just get home with your groceries safe mk? :) 

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

Awww leaving me on read georgie? :( 

George stared at his keyboard, trying to decide if he wanted to type back right now, but some little white text at the bottom of his screen stopped him. 

_Dream is typing…_

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

Cmon i know ur reading

Aren’t you gonna say something back?

George’s fingers unsteadily found themselves on the keyboard, slowly typing out a message back. 

**George** _8/10/2020_

**This isntfunny**

He sent. Not really caring for his grammar error. 

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

It’s actually really funny 

And it's gonna get funnier 

I’ll talk to you later, Georgie :) 

**George** _8/10/2020_

**What no**

**You cant just leave me with something as weird as that**

**What the fuck dream**

**Dream**

**Dream**

**DREAM???**

He watched as the little piss-green icon that would’ve signified that he was online faded to grey, and shook his head in disbelief. 

No. This can’t be happening. Dream’s not in the UK, right??? He can’t be. Well.

He took a picture at the airport… But some people take pictures wherever. It isn’t like you have to be traveling to take some _photo_ at the airport. 

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

He was home. 

He got out of the car, tipped the driver, and speedwalked up the stairs to his apartment door. The first thing he noticed when he was inside, was that the TV was on. Not like the television was never on or anything, but it specifically was on the news channel. There were those red bars scrolling across the top and bottom of the screen, so it looked as if something important must’ve happened. 

He made his way to his kitchen, where he could put down his grocery bags, and get a better look at the tube. 

“...that has backed up at least several blocks away from the initial incident. Police are currently trying their best to regulate traffic—“ But the reporter was cut off by a distressed Cassie nearly tripping her way into the kitchen. 

“George—“ She panted out, as she tried to catch her breath. She clutched at her chest with one hand, and the wall with the other. Sweat traveled down her brow, and she looked as pale as a ghost. Something was terribly wrong for her to look so sickly. 

George immediately walked over to her, taking her by the hand, and leading her to the kitchen’s island, sitting her down on one of the stools in front of it. Meanwhile, she kept breathlessly trying to rally what she was so upset about. 

“There— There was a _crash_ a- and— I’ve— I’ve gotta—gotta—She’s on life support— I- I—“ 

“Cassie,” George started, quickly, moving over to the fridge to get her a glass of water. 

He sat it down in front of her, and she greedily drank the entire glass, as if she’d not had water all day. George patiently waited for her to finish, though his mind raced with things her words could mean. While his face kept level, his breathing began to match hers, and he turned to acknowledge the TV once more. 

The words were drowned out by his own heartbeat, but on screen was a drone overhead shot of some horrible car wreck. It looked to be between some black Uber suv, and a little white Chevy. 

The suv had barely any damage, besides the windows being pretty busted, and a few good-looking dents. But the Chevy on the other hand, was completely totaled. It had been slammed _AND_ crinkled into the side of some building, and looked as if it could burst into flames at any moment. Either way, It was smoking so bad, it was barely visible. 

Even though it looked practically inescapable, thankfully, no one was in either cars at the moment. 

The sound of Cassie sitting back down, and lowering her second glass of water to the countertop made him turn his attention back to her.

She took a deep breath, before letting it out.

“My Nan was in that crash.” She states, as she motions to the television. “She’s on life support.” 

It took George a moment to find the words to reply back. _Why has everything today been so… Off???_ But before he was able to speak again, Cassie quickly stood up from her chair.

“I have to go—I have to be with her. Mom is so worried that she… Might n- not make it.” Tears began to stream down her face, and her sentence was periodically interrupted by hiccups. 

“Cassie— It's okay. Go. I understand—“ 

“B- but that means I’ll have t- to leave you…! A- and we were supposed to be visiting m- my family tomorrow—“ 

“Go. I can catch up with you, okay? Just text me the address tonight whenever you get the chance.” 

Cassie’s expression flashed to something of relief, and her mouth wobbled its way into a small reassuring smile. 

She stepped over to the brown-haired boy, and gave him a tight hug, whispering a small “thank you,” to him, before planting a small kiss on his cheek, and running off to her room to grab her things. _Wow. How lucky of them to have pre-packed._

He met Cassie one last time at the door, to kiss her on the cheek, and put her suitcases in the car. 

They waved to each other, as Cassie pulled out of the driveway, and as George watched her go. 

It wasn’t like he’d be lonely. It usually took him a while to feel lonely. He was worried. Cassie was really close to her aunt, so he knew she was hurt right now. He just… Wished he could do something. 

_Why was today so damn weird…?_

Fuck it. He turned off the tv, and warmed up some leftovers to eat. He honestly didn’t feel like dwelling on it anymore. 

Once he finished his food, he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and such, since he just decided he was gonna be in his room for the rest of the night anyway. 

He stared at himself for a moment in the mirror. He looked kind of disheveled. His hair was unruly, his expression looked dead, and he could do with some unwrinkled clothes. He’ll take a shower in the morning, he decided.

He leaned down into the sink to splash his face with some water, to hopefully clear whatever weird funk he was in. 

_Everything felt so weird. He felt like he had eyes on him. He’s felt this way since that call with Dream, honestly. What the hell has been going on?_

He looked back up, finding himself easier to look at, but something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. 

He froze up, his blood running cold at the sight.

There was something in his bathroom doorway. 

More specifically, 

_  
someone. _

  
  



	3. Monster Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im back bitches im so sorry this took so long im trying i hope this feeds yall,,, 
> 
> 5k words,,, ill try to pump out at least another 3k before the end of the week :)
> 
> Only half is beta-read btw so if yall catch any spelling errors or anything please do not be shy n lemme kno ;;

…

_“Hi there.”_

***

  
  
  


Dream ran into a familiar face today, while visiting the local Aldi’s. 

He’d bumped into a cute guy outside the store. The result of the contact ended up in the man and his bags, and Dream and his wallet toppling to the ground.

They both had a high sense of self-confidence that showed in many of their mannerisms, one of so being the way they walk. Both stuck their chests out, and carried themselves with such confidence, that both unstoppable forces met their unmovable object. 

He focused his vision on said man, to see that the person he was staring at was none other than..George. And, that he was taking in all of George's beautiful features in real-time—for the _first_ time—rather than separated by a pixelated screen, with minimal lag and skipping. He noticed something about George. 

He had quite a long face shape. And, his nose was actually kinda crooked. His lips were pink as hell, which had to mean either he’s been making out with his girlfriend, or he has naturally really red lips. His eyes were kinda small, and a little crinkled in the corners.

Sure, he just described a lot of flaws, but in reality, they were horribly endearing. Everything about the man was _oh so_ sickly sweet. 

_In fact._

_He wanted to just pounce on him at that second._

_He wanted to feel George in his arms. He wanted to have all of George’s attention. Just for a little while, at least._

_Alas,_ he needed to have self-control. 

Even though he loved George—loved him more than anything else in the world—He **_had_** to have self-control. 

If he didn’t, his entire plan would go to waste, after all.

Without another thought, he picked up the fallen groceries, and put them back into their bags. Then, grabbed his wallet, stood, and hurried into the store, pulling up his hood to hide his face a little better. 

Once he got past the sliding doors, he turned on his heel to watch his friend outside the store. 

George scooped up his bags, and stated longingly at the door, before mouthing something inaudible due to the thick glass between them. He stood, took one more look back at the ground to make sure nothing was left, then walked off. 

And Dream watched.

Just until he was out of sight. 

  
  
  


In the store, he only picked up a few things, some hand sanitizer, a pack of gum to chew on, a gatorade, and an extra facemask. He only had one of the free surgical masks at the moment, so he couldn’t pass up the cute black mask with a silly smiley he saw while getting the hand sanitizer. 

He waited in line, and chatted up the cashier a bit—who he could quite obviously tell was into him by the tone of her voice—then, waited for his Uber. 

He spent the time on his phone, setting up various things for _later_. 

It took fifteen minutes until his Uber finally arrived on the curb—which kind of pissed him off since he was on a strict time schedule—but eh. 

  
  


_Bzzt.!_

  
  


He got a notification from discord. 

He unlocked his phone, and swiped to the discord app. From the looks of it, he received a dm from George.

**George** _8/10/2020_

Hey

What was with the weird call yesterday

_Was he seriously that dense?_

He chuckled to himself, and gazed at the message for a few seconds in contemplation. 

Should he reply? What should he even say?? He wants his visit to be a surprise, after all. 

The uber he was riding in then began to slow into a pause as the driver cleared his throat and informed him of their arrival. 

“Alright, we’ve arrived—I think?—“ 

They had stopped in a small remote alleyway, however, it was Dream’s request. 

“Hold on was your stop somewhere else—“ The Man tried to correct, but he was cut off by Dream pointing a _gun_ in his direction. 

“Ah, nah. We’re _very_ much at the correct stop.” 

The man stared for a bit, eyes flickering from fear, to confusion several times over, before his eyes began darting back-and-forth from the car door handle, to Dream’s mask-covered face. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to get out? This _is_ your stop, _right_?” He readjusted his grip on the gun, purposely making a bit of sound as he did to frighten the man further. 

To Dream’s delight, the man immediately got out of the vehicle once asked.

Dream opened his car door, and stood outside with the man for a few seconds as he pulled out his wallet. 

“You’re being a good samaritan, I swear.” He handed the man a check to compensate him. “Take this for your troubles alright?”

The driver’s eyes widened at the sight of the check— _and its amount_ — in his hands, then looked up at Dream with quizzical disbelief, as if silently asking ‘Why’d You Steal My Car, Then Immediately Pay Me Back?’ 

The man in question shrugged, and opened the car door to the driver’s side. “I just have some.. Affairs to take care of. You’ll definitely need a new car though.” 

He swung himself inside, and got himself situated before closing the door. The man outside was still staring, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. So in response, Dream chuckled and rolled down the window. 

“Thank you. You can uhh…. Leave..? Now.” 

The driver continued to stand shocked for a bit, before nervously nodding, and slowly walking away, keeping his eyes on the car as he did. 

Once the man was out of sight, Dream shifted the gears into drive, and backed out of the alleyway.

_That was basically too easy._

  
  


At the first red light he encountered, he immediately went to check his phone. 

There were no new messages from George, but that was kinda expected, considering he himself hadn’t even replied to the conversation. 

  
  


_Dream is typing…_

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

**Don’t worry about it**

**Just get home with your groceries safe mk? :)**

He smiled to himself as he exited discord to look at his gps. If he were correct… 

He made a right here,

Then a left.

Continued straight, 

And made another right.

His final turn was a hard right into a shopping centre, where in front of one of the stores sat a little white Chevy., just vibing in the parking lot of a niche clothing store. 

He checked his phone once more to confirm he was at the correct location. From what it semt, he was. So he decided to lay back for a bit, and check the socials while he waited. 

_Huh._

George hasn’t replied yet.

He should be awake. It’s just a little after mid-day. Hell—the sun hasn’t even gone down yet. 

_Bzzt.!_

He immediately checked discord, not even looking to see if it was a notification from the app in the first place. 

It wasn’t.

George hadn’t replied.

_Dream is typing…_

Out of frustration, he typed up another message. This was bullshit anyway. George texted him first. He should be jumping the fucking couch or something to get a reply back to him. 

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

**Awww leaving me on read georgie? :(**

He joked in hopes it could get George to text back faster. 

…

**It didn’t.**

_Dream is typing…_

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

**Cmon i know ur reading**

**Aren’t you gonna say something back?**

Dream could feel his body heat up as his anger grew. 

_Why the fuck wasn’t he replying?_

_Was he okay?_

_Fuck._

_Someone could’ve kidnapped him. George is small and cute. He’d be a great target._

_Fuck._

Fuck.

 **Fuck** —

_—Bzzt.!_

**George** _8/10/2020_

This isntfunny 

Oh.

He chuckled, and rubbed his eyes. 

_He’s such an idiot._

He unclenched his jaw, untensed his shoulders, and let out a shallow chuckle of a breath. 

He should probably reply back. 

_Dream is typing…_

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

**It’s actually really funny**

**And it's gonna get funnier**

He smiled to himself. 

Their game was just about to begin, and he couldn’t lie about his excitement. In just a few hours… He’d be meeting George in person, formally, for the first time. Ever. 

He began tapping his feet to a happy beat inside of him, due to the realisation. 

In just… A few… Hours. 

He looked at the clock. In the U.S version of time, it would be about 7:28 PM, which meant his _errand_ should be showing up soon. 

And as if on cue, it, —rather _she_ —did. 

The elder woman exited the store he was parked in front of, and got into the mildly rusted Chevy, which meant Dream had to unfortunately end his conversation with George to pay attention. 

He quickly typed out a final reply, as he started the car. 

**Dream** _8/10/2020_

**I’ll talk to you later, Georgie :)**

George got back to him in seconds.

**George** _8/10/2020_

What no

You cant just leave me with something as weird as that

What the fuck dream

The man grinned, staring fondly at the chat as if he were looking at George himself.

Though, after all—

  
  


_—he would be soon, anyway._

**George** _8/10/2020_

Dream

Dream

DREAM???

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  


George slowly turned to look at the man fully. 

He was wearing a black-and-green striped hoodie and sweatpants, with checkered vans. His face was covered by a white mask with…

_A crude, dorky-looking smiley face._

But it was obvious from the moment he spoke. It was unmistakably Dream. Everything checked out. Height, build, even the brownish-blonde tufts of hair that sneakily peeked out from the top of his hood and mask. Speaking of that— How can he even see out of that thing? It basically covers his entire face—

Okay.

_Okay._

Dream is here. _In front of you,_ he thought to himself. 

He glanced down to the axe the tall man held in his hands, before meeting his face—or technically mask, once more. 

  
  


“Hey.” He replied. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Dream had led him into the living room, and ordered him to sit on the couch. Currently, George fiddled with his thumbs, while Dream took interest in the photos on the mantle. 

It didn’t take long for George to speak up.

“First off—How did you get in here…?”

Dream turned to face him, holding a recent picture of him and Cassie. He tilted his head to the side a little, before chuckling, and gesturing to his right. 

George followed with his eyes.

_He’d left the window open._

The taller man lost interest in him, and began to hum. He’d started to tidy up the different picture frames sitting around, even dusting off a few with his sleeve.

_Okayyy…._

“Why are you... _Here…?_ ” The brunette tried again. 

The blonde took a moment to consider the question, scrubbing off a speck of dust from the glass with his finger. 

“...Why do _you_ think I’m here.”

His half-assed answer sounded more like a statement, but George was more so displeased with the vagueness. Dream had literally been acting like this all day. 

“I don’t _fucking_ know, Dream. Why don’t _you_ answer that for me?” He snapped back, narrowing his eyes at the man. 

Dream turned to look at him once more, almost seeming as if he was caught off guard by George’s remark. 

He could imagine Dream’s eyelashes fluttering behind his mask, probably making some dumb face to accompany it. 

Dream looked back over at the picture, before removing it, and inspecting it as he walked over to George. 

He turned it this way, and that. 

Flipped it over, and over again. 

Wiped it some more. 

He looked up at George. 

**Then let the picture fall from his hands.**

The shorter male jumped at the sudden action, scurrying up further onto the couch to avoid any of the glass shards from shooting into his leg. Once he was sure he hadn’t gotten cut at all, he refocused on Dream, who was now fumbling with his hands as if he were innocent. 

_“Oops.”_ The male in front of him spoke, quitely. 

George couldn’t help his outburst at that moment. 

“WHAT DO YOU **_MEAN_ ** _, OOPS????”_

He yanked his hand down , pointing to the floor. It was covered in a mess of shards, splinters, and plastic print that combined together— _used_ to be a photo of him and his significant other.

“YOU JUST PURPOSELY BROKE MY SHIT???” He accused. 

Dream just shrugged, and shifted from one foot to another, like a child in trouble. 

“You have nothing to say for yourself???” 

The blonde shook his head, preferring to look at the floor.

What the fuck. 

_What the fuck._

**_What the fuck._ **

Dream walked back over to the mantle, picking up another framed photograph. 

George, out of distrust at this point, couldn’t stop himself from asking,

“Please put that down—“ But it only seemed to make matters worse, as _that_ startled Dream, and made him drop _that_ picture as well. 

_The sound of glass shattering isn’t pleasant._

“Dream.”

He didn’t answer. He kept staring at all the other pictures. 

“ _Dream.”_

He removed another. It was a solo picture of George. He gently placed that one down on the coffee table, then turned back to the rest of the photographs. 

The rest of them were nothing but photos of George and Cassie. 

He picked up his axe that was leaning on the fireplace, and rested it on his shoulder. 

“Alright, Dream what the fuck. Turn around and talk to me.” 

He did. 

He turned. 

But the axe just so happened to.

Shove _each_ and _every_ last picture off the mantle during its orbit. 

…

“Fuck.” George sighed, eyes weighing in on the destruction.

The sound of glass shattering _really_ wasn’t pleasant. 

The shards made a crunching sound, as the taller man made his way over to George, swaying a little as he did so. 

George watched, unamused. 

They had a staring match for a while, the boy-in-black towering over the other youtuber. Not a single word was exchanged, though. So it eventually became a contest on who would speak first. 

When George would prepare to speak, his mouth would open, his eyes would flutter a little, and he’d fix his posture, but after a second or two, he’d shrink back down. 

When Dream would prepare to speak, his chest would expand as he inhaled, and his grip on his axe would tighten. But he’d give up as well, and shrink into his shoulders a little bit. 

In the end, Dream ended up speaking up first, though. 

“..My bad.” 

“What do you fucking _mean,_ oops! My bad?????” George huffed, and furrowed his brows. 

“Mm.. eh.” He shrugs. 

“Alright— Stop being so fucking vague. It's not funny. What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Dream snapped into focus with that. 

**“I should ask you the same question.”**

“What??? The fuck—“ 

“Why don't I ever hear from you anymore?” He cut to the chase. 

George was quiet. _Ironic._

“I mean. I totally support you having a girl, but dipping out on what we’ve built together..? Dipping out on _us? C’mon now George_.” 

“Us?—“

**“YES—** ** _FUCKING_** **US** — _George_ ** _.”_** He boomed, with such sudden force in his voice that honestly—Dream didn’t even know he had in him. But he quickly regained control of his anger, and lowered his voice to keep from shouting at George like that again. “Our brand?? Our legacy?? It’s not _just_ fucking Dream. It’s Dream _and_ George.”

“That’s what you think.” The other spat back. “In fact— Is that why you’re seriously here?? Because of some petty youtube drama?—”

It didn’t last long. **“OF COURSE THE FUCK NOT??** _Maybe,_ I actually _care_ about your _dipshit_ ass??” 

“And why _should_ you?? You have like—A _Billion_ subs. What do you actually need me for anymore?— Oh— You need me to reply to your simp tweets on twitter?? You need more gay bait for your fans?? What is it _Dream?_ ”

That got under his skin. 

Dream wasn’t good with anger. At all. He’s been known on _several_ occasions to go off on horrible tangents, if he’s been pissed off enough. But it wasn’t exactly something he could help. He was argumentative by nature, and usually made rash decisions before coming back and realising the consequences of his actions. As much as he tried being self-aware about that information, it was rare he ever succeeded in restraining himself. 

Thankfully,

This was one of those rare times. 

He blinked a few times, and let out a long breath. Then, he walked closer to George, setting down his axe beside him. He smiled, and stroked George’s hair lovingly. 

All the anger inside melted away.

“ _George,”_

Said man looked up at him with an unknown fire in his hazel irises. 

“ _You are so beautiful. I love you.”_ He whispered. 

George slapped his hand away. 

He was hurt. 

“I’m tired of this. Of this—fake dating shit you keep forcing on me.” The brunette sighed. 

_Little did Dream know,_

  
  
  
  


“ **I’m. Straight.** ”

  
  
  
  


_George was hurt too._

He had to look him dead in the fucking eyes and utter that to him. With a straight face.

It was so hard to, but he… _had_ to. 

His— Their friendship. It would be in ruin otherwise. 

What would the fans do if they found out?

Hell, their friends??

_What would his own parents think??_

He did it for Dream. 

He did it for himself.

He did it for the both of them.

It simply had to be said.

He didn’t want things to become complicated with Dream. He just wants to have fun. He wanted to enjoy himself around Dream. He didn’t want to worry about whether his friend returned his feelings, or whether they were a _thing_. He only wanted to worry about their next upload, or stream. 

_It had to be said._

_For him._

The taller fell to his knees, and cried at George’s feet, not caring about how pathetic he looked. 

_Something_ inside of him hoped, _Prayed,_ that once George saw him in person, maybe… Maybe things would— _could_ change. He hoped as soon as George saw him, that he’d fall helplessly in love with the boy, and beg him to be with him then. But _hoping_ really never did shit for Dream. He knew that. His months—though really years—of hard work, and dedication on youtube knew that. 

Ironic as it is, _dreaming_ never did shit for him. But acting on those dreams, and making them a reality, **did**. 

…

“ _Clay..?”_

He looked up to see George staring back at him with pity in his eyes. 

_You caused this._

_You could’ve just loved me from the beginning._

_You could’ve just loved me, like I love you._

_Why don’t you love me?_

**_IT_ ** **Finally Got To Him.**

Dream snatched the axe next to him, and George instinctively began moving away, as the sudden garden-tool with a bloodlust began heading in his direction.

He flipped over the back of the couch, just as the axe came crashing down onto the place where he previously sat. The words sat on his tongue—to scream, to question, but Dream answered without him needing to say a thing.

“It’s time we get our game started, George~.”

He would’ve questioned _‘What Game’_ but as the axe came down once more, messily shredding through the couch with ease, he finally understood the game, and his role in question.

He scrambled to his feet, and dashed to his room where he’d left his phone, and pre-packed bag. After locking the door on his pursuer, he began clawing at the window to get it open. His heart raced, as he heard Dream hack at the door behind him, and his bones chilled at the muffled psychotic laughter from said man outside. 

He heaved himself out the window, and hopped his way out of the bushes in front of his window as he ran for his life. 

George was in no way athletic, since he barely visited the gym, and his job did consist of him staying inside and sitting all day, but he had to applaud himself. If he ever needed to escape some serious situation, there was no question that he absolutely could. 

The sounds of both men’s footsteps rang out into the night as they sprinted down the empty street. Though neither heard. Dream kept his eyes focused on his target, as said target’s ears were deaf to everything except his labored breathing. 

Block, after block, and house, after house blurrily whizzed passed them. Dream didn’t give up chase, and George didn’t give up his pace. Eventually, after George’s entire neighborhood was probably long gone, they both slowed to a jog as they reached the city streets. The moon was high by now, and judging by how many people were even out at this point, it must've been around early midnight. 

George knew, from his house at least, it took about fifteen minutes— _by car at least_ —until you’d the city. With that logic in place, it was most likely they’d been running for over forty-five minutes. Maybe longer. He didn’t get a chance to check his phone yet, though. And he didn’t want to until he was in a confirmed safe location. If he was busy on his phone for even maybe a second, Dream might speed up after him and tackle him. The boy _did_ play football for a good few years. There was no doubt that he could still pull a few tricks, no matter how out-of-shape he was now at the moment. 

After so long of silence, the hunter finally broke the silence, though it was not appreciated, since the words that happened to leave his mouth were,

**_“Oh George..~”_ **

In perfect, haunting harmony he called out to him. A good reminder of what would happen if the boy stopped. So, he continued running. He used what little rest he had from speed-walking, to break out in another sprint. Though of course, Dream followed. He noted, not as strongly. If he just pushed… And ran for as long as he could… He probably could set a good enough distance to try and break away somewhere.

And so he acted on it.

He forced the stupid twigs he called legs to push him as far as they could go, then even further. And in that time, Dream got further, and further away. 

So George sped down an alleyway, then bolted down another. After being sure he’d twisted himself into the middle of a labyrinth of turns, he hid himself in a conveniently empty recycling bin, and switched on his phone. 

What he needed to do now, was figure out where he was, and how to get out of London—No—England. 

This was _Dream_ we were talking about. If he simply left London, he’d easily follow him, because if he knew anything about Dream; it was that his perseverance was something to be envied. 

He opened google maps, and turned on the setting for google to track his location. 

Obviously, he was on the outskirts of the city area, but with a closer look, he were apparently in some obscure region called Swan lake. Just outside said region, there was a long-ass road that went through a small countryside that eventually met a 4-way intersection. Taking a right at that intersection would then have you end up at an airport. 

The information seemed all good, until he counted the fact that… Well.

He didn’t have a car. So how in god’s name would he even _traverse_ the stretch of road. Hell—He didn’t even really have the money in first place to even get himself a ticket. 

_Bzzt.!_

A discord notification snapped him out of his thoughts. 

  
  


**Dream** _8/11/2020_

Hey : )

  
  


He just wished he’d shut up. 

  
  


**George** _8/11/2020_

**Leave me the fuck alone.**

  
  


**Dream** _8/11/2020_

: (

cmon George

i just wanna talk

  
  


**George** _8/11/2020_

**We’re talking.**

  
  
  


_Dream is typing…_

  
  
  


**Dream** _8/11/2020_

Face to face

You know what i mean.

  
  


George’s heart began to race again. 

  
  


**Dream** _8/11/2020_

Where are you hiding

Come out 

I just wanna talk Georgie </3 

  
  


He began typing back to the boy, but he stopped at the sound of _him_ —outside. 

**_“...Oh Geooooooorge…”_ **

He said it so soft, and caringly. Hell—if he didn't know the context for the infamous phrase to be used like that, it probably could’ve coaxed him out of hiding. 

But of course, that wasn’t the case. 

And the second he remembered that, he had to physically restrain himself, to keep himself from screaming. 

He was right. Outside.

If he made even a peep. He’d be found. 

The pressure was mounting, and he felt like he was trapped— _which basically was true_ —if Dream decided to look for him in here, he’s done for. 

**_“George…. Come out. C’mon, I miss you. Don’t leave me out here all alone.”_ **

He fucking hated that.

Leave him all alone?

What about the times he’d used him for clout? After so long of pretending to be boyfriends on stream and shit—he couldn’t help but feel as if something was actually there.

What about the time George actually tried to confess his love, and Dream shrugged him off. Without a single regard. Because it was an _act._ A _bit._ A show for everyone else to enjoy. While he on the other hand, had to struggle with the question if he was _really_ still straight or not. 

It was so fucking unfair. 

  
  


**George** _8/11/2020_

**I won’t come out, ever, unless you leave. I’ll wait as long as it takes.**

  
  
  


_Dream is typing…_

  
  
  


**Dream** _8/11/2020_

guess you’ll be waiting then 

  
  


George finally devised up a plan to get himself out of the area, with Dream hopefully distracted. 

Obviously, he wouldn’t be able to trek the long road to the airport in one night or something. But if he ordered an uber, he could probably pay extra or something to get driven all the way out there. The only issue with this though, was that Dream would absolutely hear the car pull up. But he had no worries about that. He’d just order _another_ uber, a decoy one, and put it in the opposite direction to the real one’s pickup site. 

He smiled to himself, proud of his 500iq moment, then put his plan to action.

The first car came rolling up around fifteen minutes after he ordered it. But it became evident from the miniscule peeks he’d steal of the outside area, that Dream wasn’t taking the bait. 

So he’d have to pull like—a switcheroo. The original getaway Uber would have to be the decoy car, while the first one is the real getaway car. 

It was kind of confusing, but hey. Dude’s gotta do what he gotta do to survive. 

The second uber arrives moments later, and as theorized, Dream went to check that one out instead. 

George slipped himself out of the bin, and took off in the direction of the curb that the first car was parked at. 

However, in retrospect, he shouldn’t have moved so fast. It doesn’t take long to figure out that a trick card is being played. 

On both of their hands. 

  
  


**_“George…”_ **

His voice was so low.

 _Dangerous_. 

**Hypnotic.**

It was terrifying—yet comforting. The _‘ge’_ sound sent shivers down his spine, and struck every nerve. But he felt laxed, and compelled to turn and face the masked man. But he didn’t. He didn’t look back. He refused to. 

**_“George.”_ **

This one was firm, and demanding, like a dog call, or a small child being beckoned over for some issue. It made the hairs on his arms raise in alarm, and what little false comfort from the gentleness in which he spoke his name beforehand wash off of him with the lesser-friendly replication. 

**_“G e o r g e.”_ **

He broke out into a sprint. 

Footsteps thundered behind him. But he still didn’t look back. For what reason? It won’t give him any more of an upper-hand. 

His lungs burned, but he could see the car now. The dreaded sound of his hunter even began to fade into the night. 

He could leave Dream in the dust. He just needed to push a little bit longer..!!

Wait.

_Fuck._

How is he even supposed to get in the goddamned car? He tried to figure out how to shake his hunter, but it was too late anyway. In just a few more steps, his hand would be clawing the car door open, and he’d toss himself in. 

So he did the most logical thing he could at that moment. He forcefully slammed down the door lock, and screeched at the person in the front seat to Fucking-Floor-It. 

Thankfully, after a moment of confusion—and alarm over George's pursuer banging on the car—they complied. The car shot off down the street, no focus on the set destination even yet. Escape was more important. 

Much, _much_ more important.

Especially considering that Dream had hopped in the other uber, and was currently driving after them.

  
  


It could’ve been peaceful; the night sky slowly dragging along, and the moon steadily glowing down on them. The soft breathing of himself, or an occasional sneeze from the driver, cutting through the warble from the ignored radio. The gentle bumps, and glides of the car slowly lulling the oh-so tired boy to rest. 

It sure could have been.

Instead, he sat straight up in his seat, hands fiddling with one another, as he kept his focus on the passenger mirror. In it, he stared down the approaching vehicle that carried his friend. Or— Former friend?

Damn. He hadn’t thought about that.

He didn’t get a chance to assess today’s events at all really— But the particular adjective got him thinking. 

_Was Dream actually his friend anymore?_

I mean.

He just tried to nearly fucking _murder_ him. 

That’s a pretty good reason to end a friendship on.

Issue with that was… Their _type_ of friendship. 

They knew each other for literal, fucking _years._ Ending a relationship like that was… Kinda weird. 

Wait—Not a relationship. Friendship. 

_Wait_. 

When… Dream was in his house with him— When this all started, didn’t he say something about… Well. Them? 

It was easy to understand that they were a package deal, but in all honesty, Dream was a lot more intimate than he needed to be. 

But unfortunately, George never got to finish his thought, when his body suddenly made harsh contact with the left side of the car. 

The uber that Dream was riding in had caught up, and had rammed the car on the passenger side. 

“UH— SIR, IF IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TO ASK—“ the driver began, their voice trembling as they tried to steady the car, and speed away from the danger to their left. “COULD YOU POSSIBLY?? I DON’T KNOW— _TEXT YOUR CRAZY ASS EX OR SOMETHING???— CAUSE— I’M PRETTY SURE THIS GUY IS ABOUT TO RUN US OFF THE_ **_FUCKING ROAD.”_ **

George nodded, and shakily pulled out his phone, opening the discord app. As it loaded up, he snuck a glance at the rival uber, noting that there were only a _single_ person in the car now. That explained why the car caught up— _Dream was driving it now._

And if that was the case, he probably wouldn’t be able to text him.

**Dream** _8/11/2020_

guess you’ll be waiting then 

The final message sent taunted him as soon as the app came up, and it made it just a bit harder to man up and tap the call button. But as much as he wanted to avoid ringing him—he was pretty sure if he didn’t grow a pair _real quick_ , _his_ driver would probably toss him out of the still-moving car. 

_Fuck._

There really _was_ no evading it. 

**Fuck it.**

….

The icon reluctantly hummed, visually showing the process of which in another car, another man’s phone currently played a little tune, and buzzed with dispassion. 

… 

  
  


…

00:01.

00:02.

00:03.

00:04.

He hadn’t even noticed that the other had answered.

There was silence across the board. 

00:08

00:09

00:10

00:11

**_“..._ ** **Hey there** **_, Gogy.”_ **

…

…

“Hey… _Dreamie.”_

**“Mm. Cute to know you think that of me.”**

…

“Sure.” 

…

…

00:26

00:27

00:28

00:29

**“** **_...Geeeoooorrrrrrrrggge…”_ **

“... _Dreeeeeeeamm..”_

_…_

**“C’mon. You should get out n’ come see me,** **_george_ ** **.”**

“ _No..”_

**“W h y.”**

“ _You’re… still driving.”_

_…_

_…_

00:39

00:40

00:41

00:42

The car to the left of them slowed, and they did too. They slowed, until both were at a complete stop. 

00:58

00:59

01:00

01:01

**_“Get out the car,_ ** **George.”**

The brunette looked up at the driver, as to see their input. Though, it was pretty telling as they gave them a knowing look, and unlocked the car doors. 

Didn’t really have a choice, did he. 

01:07

01:08

He opened the car door,

01:09

01:10

...And stepped out. 

01:11

01:12

A moment later,

01:13

01:14

—So did Dream. 

However, he made no move to come any closer. 

**“Tell your guy to get out, too.”**

He looked back to his car, and gestured for the driver to step out. And after going through five different stages of confusion and fear, they slid out into the cool night air, and edged themselves around the front of the car in order to accompany George from a distance. 

Now, Dream started to advance. Specifically towards the driver. The person in question was already timid, but the sight of seeing Dream’s figure approaching made them cautiously back up the very hood of the car in panic. 

The blonde’s posture picked up, as he lifted the axe he clutched above his head, the weapon itself eager to come down for a powerful blow. Instinctively, George turned the fuck away. 

Even though he wasn’t even looking, the volume in which the Driver’s shrieks rose, was a pretty good indicator in how close the youtuber behind him was to the terrified individual. He could even _hear_ the airy _woosh_ from the axe flying down to plant itself… Somewhere. 

The _crunch_ of the impact made him flinch. 

He didn’t want to, but he turned—Just to make sure that there _wasn’t_ a bloody scene behind him. 

**The sound of glass shattering** **_definitely_ ** **isn’t very pleasant.**

Thankfully, the driver wasn’t hurt. The windshield, however, was completely broken, cracked into several small fragments that had sprayed everywhere. The radio was also probably unusable, by the looks of how the axe had landed in the very middle of the vehicle’s dashboard. 

_“Listen here…”_ Dream spoke down to the traumatized driver _. “You’re gonna get back in this car, and drive the fuck off, like nothing ever happened,_ **_got it?_ ** _”_

The poor person frantically nodded, and clawed their way off the hood to find escape back inside the vehicle.

George had to admit—He was fucking _pissed_ , as he watched the last dim glow of red taillights disappear down the road, but he couldn’t blame the person. Dream _could’ve_ murdered them. If positions were reversed, he would have done the exact same—maybe earlier. 

Wait. That’s right. 

**Dream** ** _could_** **_have_** **murdered them.**

He was stuck. In the middle of nowhere.

With a mental version of what _used_ to be his _best friend_ , and… _crush._

Huh.

  
  


**_Huh._ **

  
  


He chuckled to himself, observing the complete absurdity of the situation he was in. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be fucking real.

But it was.

He was out here, with a near fucking murderer. 

He laughed. 

Dream turned to him, expression hidden by his mask—and general middle-of-fucking-nowhere darkness—causing him to look creepy as fuck. 

His knees were weak, and his feet sore, his hands raw, and sides tender from sudden overuse of the area’s muscles. But he kept on laughing. 

Simply, because he was _completely_ , and _utterly_ ,

**Fucked.**

  
  
  
  
  



	4. Sniper Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I've updated lmaoo  
> I'm so sorry its taken me literally years but I also draw, animate, and shit on the side so shgdhja
> 
> Sit back, get comfortable, and ready your popcorn, because I've prepared 10k words that's gonna leave you gasping for your breath at the end of this chapter. I advise you re-read the previous chapter before this one, if it's been awhile since you've touched this fic to refresh yourself. This chapter is a direct continuation of the one before it. Also, Lots of cws/tws in this chapter. Mind the tags. 
> 
> Two last things before you start--  
> One, a BIG BIG THANK YOU!!!!!!!! To my beta reader :) !! I love them so much, they're so poggers, and this fic would be trash without em LMAO <3 <3 
> 
> Second, I HAVE!!! A spotify playlist for this fic. I DEF recommend you listen to it on low volume while you read, really sets the tone for this overall fic. Here's the link if you wanna give it a listen!! :D 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Fa8PUSSfKdC38iDR2taDj?si=Vm3mmjg3QOG7Mdt7uN_0ng
> 
> I hope this makes up for it taking so long agagahga luv y'all :)

Talking to Dream online gave George butterflies. Even though the man was two-thousand and then some miles away. Hell, every time he’d hear the familiar 

**“User has joined your channel** ,”

He put a pause on everything he was doing previously, just to see if it was the youtuber with the white and piss-yellow avatar who had come to accompany him. 

But things were different now. The butterflies felt violent, and wild inside of him. Less like butterflies, and more like _wasps_. 

The seatbelt uncomfortably cut into his neck, and the seat itself was too far forward for his liking. He felt as if he were in a car seat, with the way he was nearly confined in. Though, that comparison would honestly be accurate anyway. He _was_ caged in. 

George currently sat antsy in the passenger seat of the second Uber Dream had stolen today. New record! 

They both sat in silence as the little black car rolled down the road to… _Beyond_ _the_ beyond the middle of nowhere. But George wasn’t complaining—if you were going to murder him, do it in an obscure, remote location—Like a _REAL_ horror slasher. 

But, jokes aside, George knew he had no way of escaping. Not now, anyway. Dream entirely had the upper hand. He had a vehicle, and he was _armed_ —George was screwed. 

The two men continued to sit in silence, their breathing, and the car radio being the only source of sound both would hear at the moment. Said radio was playing gentle Lo-fi, and by quick glance he noticed Dream’s phone was connected to the system by an auxiliary cord. The softness of the music ended up helping George think. 

However, the silence between them was finally broken-ish, when George noticed Dream began to hum along to the song currently playing. It sounded way different to all the songs beforehand—more like some song from the American _roaring twenties_ . And if they weren’t in the situation they were in, not gonna lie— _he would’ve found it cute._

_Put your head on my shooooouuulder…_

_Hold me in your arms,_

**“** **_Baby,”_ **

The singular word made George snap his head up to look at the other male. He honestly wasn’t stunned with Dream’s singing—he was pretty offkey, and his voice was really flat—but the fact that he _began_ singing was interesting. 

_Show me that you love me too…_

_Put your lips—_ **_“—Next to miiiine, dear…”_ **

He knew that it wasn't uncommon for Dream to begin singing to any song ever, but this time in particular just felt way _different_. It probably was the _content_ of the song. 

He felt a certain uneasiness grow in his stomach. 

_Just a kiss goodnight,_

_Maybe,_

**_“You and I will fall in love ..”_ **

What irony.

_Could he ever love Dream again?_ All this _bullshit_ has made him too tired to even think about it. _What would the aftermath of all this even look like?_

Would he still continue talking to Dream? Did he _want_ to? 

He gave a complete look over his friend. From the way he _boredly_ tapped his fingers on the driver’s wheel, to the easily missable tufts of hair just barely sticking out over the dopey mask that covered the entirety of his face. 

_He felt butterflies._

He steered his eyes back on the road. 

Well. It still was _his_ Dream. It was obvious a few— _maybe a lot_ —of his screws were loose, but it was still _him._ The Dream that he spent countless nights with, the Dream who always was there for him—no matter what. The Dream that spoiled him rotten; whatever he asked for, he _got_ , as long as it was up to Dream. Hell—the very iPhone he held in his _hands_ was a result of Dream’s attention. 

Dream was _such_ a huge part of George’s life—that cutting him out like _that_ wouldn’t be easy. 

He pulled himself back to reality with a sigh, and refocused on the sounds around him. 

_—it someday,_

_And then this fool will, rush iiiinn…._

_Put your head on my shhoooouuulder…_

**_“Whisper in my ear… Baby..”_ **

_Words I want to hear,_

_Tell me,_

**_“Tell me that you love me too… “_ **

He noticed that they had slowed down considerably, and the car began veering right onto a gravel path that led into a forest trail. It looked dark, and sketchy as fuck in there, but he was not the one driving, so he didn’t have much of a choice where the car went. 

**_“Words I want to hear,”_ **

_baby..._

Then, the idea hit him like a fuckton of bricks. He knew how to get out of this. 

Dream said it himself, the reason why he was even here right now was because he was _pissed_. He had feelings for George, and he was tired of George ignoring him. So the solution to escape was easy. He simply needed to flirt his way out. Butter him up, and then strike when his guard lowers. 

Ethically, it wasn’t a good option. Functionally? It was basically the only thing available to him, if he didn’t want to wrestle him for control over the gun or something. Afterall, George was in no way interested in murdering his closest friend. Though, reassuring himself with this didn’t make it any better for him. But hey—this is _manhunt_. The game doesn’t stop until _he’s_ dead, or if he won. 

The former outcome was definitely unwanted. 

But.

_Wait._

How _the fuck,_ was he even _supposed_ to win _, anyway???_

**_“Put your head on..My shoulder….”_ **

The song faded out on the radio.

That was a good question. One, he’ll have to ask.

In real life, there _is_ no nether. 

No end. 

No cave systems to traverse, no blaze rods to collect. 

No fortress, or stronghold to find.

**No dragon to fight.**

_How was he supposed to win?_

**_“Get out.”_ **

George had no more time to think, as he was commanded to exit the vehicle by the very man who took him hostage in it. 

He did as told with no retort, but he crossed his arms as soon as he was out of the car, as not to seem entirely submissive. 

The walk into the heart of the woods wasn’t that long in reality, but it felt like so, due to the lack of banter between the two of them. George’s tired legs themselves nearly even thanked Dream for finally demanding him to stop a good ways out, since they were already tired from all the running just earlier. Though the happiness died out quick, when he watched as Dream heaved the axe he’d dragged out with him onto his shoulder. 

**_“Sit.”_ **

He contemplated it. 

“What do you think I am? A dog?”

The masked man just huffed, and stalked closer. 

_The wasps inside of him began to buzz in an uncontrollable frenzy._

George sat.

The ground was cold, and kind of muddy. 

**_“Good boy.”_ ** **_  
  
_**

“ _The fuck._ ”

Dream would’ve rolled his eyes. 

**_“You’re no fun. At all. We’ve barely been playing for a day, and I’ve already cornered you.”_ **

He wasn’t wrong. 

George hadn’t even done manhunt in a while, though—let alone one in _real life_. It wasn’t very common for him to be hunted, since Dream was the _epic, cool, 9000iq_ pvper _._ He wasn’t a very good speedrunner, either. Plus—he had no fucking idea today would go in _this_ direction. Y’know, in his opinion, he was doing pretty good for an unexpected real-life manhunt. But, there was no immediate goal to actually be sought after. He was running without reason, which was unfair. 

“Yeah? Well—I don’t even know what to do. Isn’t like I can go mine iron, or go to the nether. How am I literally supposed to win?”

Dream tilted his head a little. 

**_“That’s right. You’re right._ ** **Almost. I’ve already taken those things into account. You, don’t worry about that. But right now, it sounds like you have to outsmart me,** **_if you don’t want your neck to end up a bloody fountain~.”_ **

He instinctively swallowed hard. 

Okay,

Okay.

He needed to stall him. 

“I don’t even have a chance to do that. Outsmart you, how? Every option that was previously available to me, I used, and I ended up here. Now, what?”

**“You think harder. Use whatever else is currently available to you now.”**

“ _NOTHING i_ s available. _I’m cold, I’m tired,_ and _my head fucking hurts._ I’m ready to just pass the hell out on the disgusting ground, because I’m that exhausted.” He whined. 

Dream’s shoulders went slack, as he sputtered in annoyance. **_“That doesn’t mean you just give up,_ ** **George.”**

“Does for me.” George shrugged, then pointed to his neck nonchalantly. “End me Florida boy.” 

That was the last straw. 

Dream raised the axe above his head with a growl, and George trembled as he shrank into his shoulders. 

One.

  
  
  


_Two._

  
  
  
  


**_Three_ **, seconds passed, before Dream lowered the axe, eventually letting it plant itself firmly into the ground next to him. He then let out a long breath, before crumpling down to the ground himself, next to George. 

“...You—”

**_“Fuck off,_ ** **George.”**

…

Even in the most tense, and confusing of moments, Dream made sure to say his name with such gentle, and perfect care. It was honestly flattering. 

…

_Butterflies._

_..._

The two men sat there, contemplating it together. 

George made a move to stand, hoping he could possibly slip away while Dream was still in his moment, but the sudden weight threateningly constricting his arm kept him from rising any higher than his knees. He let out a slow exhale, and accepted his fate, on the cold, and kind of muddy ground, with his screwed up best friend. 

…

It was a while before either of them talked.

…

**_“...George…”_ **

Dream suddenly reached up, to cup George’s cheek. The man in question gave a silent reply by semi-voluntarily leaning into the touch. Of which, seemed to be the right response, as Dream hummed and began caressing his cheek.

**_“You are….So beautiful,”_ **he chuckled. 

George fluttered his lashes, and reached up to put his hand over Dream’s. The Going-Through-Dream’s-Heart strat was working out so far, but he still wasn’t exactly sure how he could get Dream to let him go yet. 

**_“You’re also a brat. You know that?~”_ **He teased. 

George nodded, and rolled his eyes, before looking away, but it upset the younger. He repositioned his hand to hold George’s chin instead, and carefully turned his head to face him again. 

**_“Don’t turn away. I want to see you.”_ **

It was too hard to meet the other’s eyes. He was literally leading Dream on, for his own benefit. Something he never expected, or wanted to ever do. The guilt showed in his eyes. How _could_ he look at him? 

_“...please…”_

The way he said it was so gentle, and warm— _desperate._

Before George even registered it himself, his own coffee-brown irises, met the marker-drawn dots-for-eyes of Dream’s mask. He felt Dream’s other arm snake around his waist, pulling the two closer. The hand on his chin, then slid up into his hair, to lovingly comb through it. 

_The butterflies flapped around in a beautiful circle-like formation, speeding up each lap with their excitement._

He hummed at the feeling.

He couldn’t deny that it was at least a _little_ nice. Being pampered, and treated like this. _But_ , the car keys that he was able to slip out of Dream’s pocket, and into his own, was even nicer. Now that he had a mode of escape, he could probably kick Dream off of him this very second, and hightail it for the car.

_“My beautiful,_ _beautiful,_ George. _”_ He breathed.

But then again… This _is_ nice. It wouldn’t hurt to let this continue _just_ a _little_ longer...

Dream pressed his masked forehead to George’s, and wrapped both arms around the other’s waist, before speaking once again. 

_“Why can’t you stay here with me, George? Isn’t this nice?”_

It’s _really_ nice, actually. 

He hummed as his only reply. 

_“Don’t go back to her. Stay here with me.”_

“ _Drrrreeeeamm..._ You _know_ I can’t do that.”

**_“—You c a n.”_ **

Fuck.

It _would_ hurt to stay a little longer. 

He began pulling Dream off of him.

**_“George. You belong with me. You belong right here.”_ **

_I know._

He stood. 

It was time to leave. 

**_“G e o r g e.”_ **

_The butterflies gracefully dropped to the ground, crumpled, and singed, as if they’d been set ablaze. They shriveled, and shrunk, and eventually turned to black ash and grey dust. Of that, the angry black and yellow insects arose from, built with the singular goal of harm and destruction etched into their very existence._

“ _I’m sorry,_ Dream.”

He should’ve known to run. 

_The wasps weren’t the only ones who now had a murderous intent._

Dream yanked him by the ankle back down to the ground, and snatched the axe from beside him. Though, George now knew how to avoid the man’s frenzied swings. He pressed himself against the aforementioned cold, disgusting, and kind of muddy earth to just barely avoid a swift, yet chaotic sweep of the man’s blade. 

The hunter heaved, gripping onto the axe handle for near, dear life. 

_“I should have known,”_ Dream choked out, as he slowly rose from his knees, shakily pushing himself up with the help of his axe. Upon closer inspection, George saw what looked like something _wet_ dripping from the bottom of his mask. 

The man let out a slurred chuckle that morphed from being a broken, hiccupy mess between escaped wails—to a deranged, convulsive bout of mad hysterics as he began trying to wobble his way towards a now retreating George. 

**_“You don’t love me,”_ ** he spat. **“** **_You. Never. Did. Did you, George~?”_ **He gathered his strength, and reeled back the axe again, as he started approaching the shorter male. 

**“I bet—** **_All of this_ ** **—”** He grunted from the sheer force of bringing the axe down once more, only narrowly missing the other’s arm. **“My feelings—Are a fucking—G A M E—to you?** **_Huh?_ ** **”**

He punctuated each pause with slash, after slash. Another swing of the axe actually shredded through the lower part of George’s shirt, and left a long, shallow cut along his side. For a moment, he was starstruck. But, he was forced to pull himself together, just before another attempted strike came crashing down in the space where he stood only milliseconds before. 

**_“_ ** **Then a game, we’ll** **_f u c k i n g_ ** **play,** **_G e o r g e.~”_ ** Dream hissed, as he suddenly dropped the axe, in trade for his _gun_. 

George’s muddy-brown irises shrank in shock and fear as he zeroed in on the object. 

Time briefly felt as if it were moving in slow motion. The quiet click from the machine was _sickening_ as Dream aimed it directly at George’s heart. His eyes darted around, seriously taking in his surroundings for the first time since they had begun to fight. 

He only had a short window of time to even find some sort of cover. Deciding he probably needed to get to the Fucking-Car, he made a mad dash into the woods, just as the first ear-damaging shot rang out through the entirety of the forest preserve. 

It was dark, wet, and he was getting cuts from running through all the brush. But another **_P o p !_ ** close by only told him that he couldn’t _fucking_ stop, and if anything, he needed to run faster. Three more gunshots announced themselves with **_B A N G !_ **’s, each one somehow louder than the last. But the most of what he heard was the sound of his ragged breathing, or his heart beating out of his damn chest. 

After what felt like an eternity of running, he finally reached the area they parked in. He _thought_ Dream was a ways behind, so he didn’t waste any time to try to get in the car safely. But a haunting call from the woods let him know that he was _wrong_ , and it was already too late. 

  
  
  
  
  


**_“O h , G e o r g e ! ~”_ **

  
  
  
  
  


FUCKFUCKFUCK—

He jammed the key into the door, and jiggled it every which and way he could to get it open. 

_He could hear his footsteps now._

  
  
  


**_“G E O R G E ~ !”_ **

  
  
  


**The door opened.**

He shoved himself into the car, and slammed the door shut, before locking it. 

**_“YOU THINK THAT HUNK OF METAL WILL STOP ME??~”_ **

**_Bang!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

**_B A N G!_ **

The windshield broke…

  
  


...and the car started. 

He didn’t even check what shift it was in, he just fucking floored it. The car shot forward on the path, thankfully away from Dream. But it didn’t stop him from shooting wildly at the vehicle as the brunette sped away. 

**“THIS ISN’T OVER!!—I’LL FUCKING FIND YOU GEORGE!”** Dream maniacally screeched out into the night. **_“_ ** **I’M GOING TO FOLLOW YOU EVERYWHERE YOU** **_FUCKING_ ** **GO. —** **_YOU’RE_ ** **_D E A D!!!_ ** **_”_ **

It sounded like an action movie, with how many bullets were being pelted into the hull of the car alone, besides all the windows they were breaking. Hell—it was miraculous that not even a hair on George was harmed with how many shells were shot. 

Or.

So he thought. 

A sharp pain shot up his arm, and he looked down to notice… That the right side of his upper forearm had a bullet lodged in it. Just a few seconds later, he felt an even worse pang in his leg. 

He couldn’t get a good look at the damage, since he had to keep his eyes on the road, but he knew there was a _lot_ of blood. He needed to get himself to a hospital, asap—

—And register everything that just happened, later. 

  
  


  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The car ride to find a hospital was…

Depressing. 

First of all, he had to suffer for _quite_ a bit, before being able to wrap his wounds. There was no way in _west hell_ were he going to give Dream time to catch up to him. 

But even with space between them two, he was still in quite the predicament. He didn’t know _shit_ about _normal_ first aid, so knowing anything while he had to _improvise_ materials was a lost cause. The cloth around his forearm and calf ended up serving more like a wall made from sponge. Though luckily for him, in both holes, the bullet remained inside, somewhat plugging them from draining too much.

Still, if he didn’t make it to the hospital before sundown at very least, he’d likely pass out from blood loss. He already had to start praying he won’t get some infection because the bullets were still lodged in. 

When he’d finally made it out of the preserve, the sun had just begun to rise, and George noticed only now how sleepy he was. He had a banger headache, and it was _cold._ He no longer had heating, or radio, due to bullet damage. 

In general—everything was so fucked up. The car, His situation, _himself._

A **‘Bing!’** from the car’s dashboard annoyingly interrupted his assessment. Looking at all the strange gizmos that reported the different statuses of systems in the car, he found that the fuel meter had _literally_ passed the ‘E’ symbol. _As if things couldn’t get any worse for him._

The car slowed to a halt, minutes later. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have led Dream on, because it seemed to have made everything worse. He could have found some other way to escape. 

After moping for a few minutes more in the lifeless vehicle, he finally got out and began to try to walk the long road. 

He at least knew this; last night, or— earlier that morning—while riding with Dream, they’d passed a handful of houses. All scattered along the stretch he was previously driving back the way they came on. Most of the homes looked old, abandoned, or a combination of both. But, there was always a good chance that maybe _just_ one of them ended up being a _real_ living space to _someone._ He recalled that many of them had several cars parked out front, but that could very well be a characteristic of a once functionable household, now deserted for one reason or another. 

_All he could do is hope._

George quickly reshifted his focus, as he stepped out of the car for the first time since the drive away from the preserve. The moment his right leg touched pavement, searing pain shot up the limb in such a way, that it felt as if it’d just been struck by lightning. 

The brunette immediately sunk to the ground with an audible wince at the unanticipated ache. Though then again—He should have figured. 

_Fuck._

_It hurt._

_So fucking bad._

His eyelids squeezed shut, and his teeth grit against one another with vigor. 

_He had no other choice than to overcome the pain. Otherwise, he would be a dead man out here._

_Even though the wasps hissed venom, stung him over and over as he slowly stood, and clawed at the very bones that he needed to balance himself on—_ He managed it. 

He took step, after step, and eventually, he found himself down the road, getting further and further from the car by the second. Of which, was quite obviously a good thing. Most importantly, he needed to cover as much ground as possible before it got too late. 

Simply _‘sucking-it-up’_ wasn’t as easy as in the movies. Not to mention the fact that other humanly needs had begun to kick in—such as getting thirsty, hungry, and _really having to go piss._ It felt as if all the elements were against him, with the exception of rain. He thanked the _lord_ that it hadn’t begun to rain. Being soaked, cold, thirsty, hungry, injured, and _really_ having to urinate would likely smite his will to continue living. 

Anyways—He continued walking. He probably walked for nearly an hour, before flashing lights in the distance demanded his attention.

As he got closer, he found there were about 3 cop cars, as well as another vehicle that looked pretty busted-up, and had a shattered windshield. The corners of George’s lips upturned, while he let out a labored chuckle. 

_What chance would that be, if it were the uber I was in last night,_ he thought. 

It definitely would have to be a damn lucky chance. 

When George got even _closer_ to the scene, the people there began giving concerned glances in his direction. Rightfully so, since he looked like he got out of a fight— _which he technically did, albeit a gun-fight—_ or was some drug addict who was wandering on the side of the road, as addicts do. 

Eventually, one of the officers got the balls to counter-approach the suspected-drug-addict. 

“Don’t look too good there, buddy.” 

“Not doing too good. I’ve been shot, actually.” It came out more nonchalant than he intended, but it was old news. He couldn’t help sounding a little stale mentioning it. “I got carjacked, and was nearly murdered.” 

The uniformed man’s gaze softened at the presented information. “Hey—Johnson, get the boy over here. We’ve got a lead.” 

***

  
  


As George anticipated, he was quite thoroughly questioned about the previous night’s events. 

It turned out, George _did_ have a damn lucky chance for once. The uber driver from the night before, had dialed the police once he’d reached a safe enough distance. 

Issue was, that he and Dream had left _before_ the police arrived. And while they continued to search for the two, the dumbasses on duty that night didn’t have enough brain cells to check in the goddamned forest preserve. 

So, they went out on another search this morning, after the boy swore up-and-down that there _really_ had been an abduction. 

That’s when they’d found George—rather, George found _them—_ and decided to continue the case, after calling an ambulance to come retrieve him, of course. 

For the most part, George told them everything. From when **_he_ ** caused a car crash, then broke in, to the… _moment_ in the woods. 

_Except._

He omitted one, singular, yet insanely important detail. 

The attacker’s identity. 

He constantly referred to the _cursed_ version of his best friend, fittingly, as _nightmare—though a_ semi-unconscious doing. It wasn’t like he was trying to _hide Dream’s identity_ or anything, but the crucial information just couldn’t stay on his tongue, and the name refused to fall from his lips.

“Do you know the man’s name?” 

The officer’s standard inquiry shouldn’t have made him as nervous as it did. He prepared to open his mouth, but it was almost as if just then, the memory left him. He actually _couldn’t_ remember **_his_ ** name. 

His eyes wandered over to the uber driver. _Did he ever call_ **_him_ ** _by his name while in the car?_ Figuring by the man’s silence, he didn’t know, or didn’t remember Dream's name either. 

Fuck. 

He hated when all eyes were on him.

 _The butterflies inside were weeping._ It’s not fucking fair. 

“...Nick,” he blurted. 

The officer nodded, and jotted it down on a notepad. The driver, on the other hand, just furrowed his brows. Maybe he couldn’t remember the name of the man that threatened his life, but apparently he could remember it was nowhere _close_ to being Nick. 

“Nickolas,” George repeated again, tearing his eyes away from the other man. 

“No last name?” 

George shook his head. He really didn’t know Dream’s last name, anyway. 

“Alright. Thank you for your compliance, sir. Ambulance should arrive in the next five.” The officer tipped her hat, and walked back over to her comrades.

_The butterflies inside fluttered with a warm gentleness. They made him smile, slightly._

“So, you must be in love with him.”

_“What?”_ George once again turned to the Uber driver. 

“ _You heard me_. You must be.” They spoke lowly. “There’s no other reason you would cover for him like that.” 

“ _Excuse me??_ I couldn’t remember his damn name, is all.” He didn’t mean to snap back at them like that, but it came out quicker than he could filter it. 

“That’s a _lie_ , and _you know it._ How were you _speaking_ to each other on the phone, and yet you don’t have his full name?” They pressed. 

“It was a _discord_ call. It’s a separate chatting app. You don’t need a telephone number for that.”

The driver only narrowed their eyes, as they glared on in distrust. “Then give his online name. They can track his IP.” 

George was silent.

“You’re covering for him.” 

“Maybe I am. That’s none of your _fucking_ business.” He spat in defense. “And—it doesn’t _concern_ you what my relationship to him is, anyway.”

They tsked. “I could advise the officers to search your phone,” 

George’s eyes widened at that.

“Huh.” They smirked, “So that means you really know this dude.” 

Fuck. Why did he have to be so reactionary. Though, he remembered the fact that he _is_ a face-cam streamer. Maybe that added to it. 

“ _I… just—don’t. Okay?”_

His voice softened, and his stature shrunk. 

“Damn, you like him _that_ much?” 

George wanted to nod. He wanted to shake his head. He ended up tilting his head down, and shifting his gaze to his feet. 

“That isn’t healthy, you know?? He hurt you.”

_‘Dream would never hurt me,’ his butterflies chanted._ He wanted to trust his butterflies, so _so_ badly. But as he came back to reality, and felt the throbbing pain all over his body, he knew that simply couldn’t be true. As much as he wanted it to be. 

“I know.”

Flashing lights were getting closer. He could hear the sound of tire against pavement. He could feel the burning of pain everywhere on himself. The air was drying his throat out. 

Everything was so much. So so much. Too much. 

  
  


He just wanted to rest.

  
  
  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  
  
  


White. So much of it. 

The lights, the walls, the bed he was in, his gown, the floors, the ceilings, the chair, the sofa. Everything was a pure, and blinding shade of white. If there hadn’t been an orangish-blue sky outside his window, and some generic—yet familiar game show being broadcasted on his television, he would have simply assumed he’d passed on, and were now in a void-like afterlife.

Unfortunately, whatever god there is wasn’t letting him go just yet. 

Before he even got his eyes open, he could already feel soreness blooming from different points on his form. But he wouldn’t complain. He was thankful that it wasn’t as agonizing as before. 

Though, it was painful to even open his eyes. It felt as if they were made from stone; they were so dry. 

He gandered around the room best he could, since he didn’t want to risk setting up in his bed. He noticed that he had at least 7 different wires protruding from his arms, and likely more in other places on his body. He looked like a robot. 

Time passed like a _timelapse_. He even fittingly heard a quiet version of Elevator Bossa Nova in his head, the song that **_he_** frequently used during such montages. He was no stranger to losing track of the sun-cycle, as his eyes spent most of their time focused on a gaming monitor—but somehow, this moment was different. 

He didn’t like it here. 

Nurses checked on him regularly, every two hours or so, and officers would even come to see him every six hours. Of course, it wouldn’t help his crippling loneliness—since he would actually rather be around people he knew and trusted—but he’d always feel just a bit better every time a nurse or officer came in the room. 

He wasn’t fully conscious, until the sun rose, and fell again. By the content of his current tv programming—the news—he quickly found that it was a little later than 20:00. Or, 8 PM in the American time unit. 

Speaking of Americans, he really wanted to talk to Sapnap. The last time they talked was right before Dream broke in. The Texan would probably be confused as to why he couldn’t reach his friend. Though, when he reached for his phone, he realised it wasn’t at his bedside, and rather were probably in the white locker that most likely also held the rest of his belongings. 

Anyone else would regard it as his technology addiction, but he simply _needed_ to talk to someone he _knew_. The Uber driver was nice; He’d called the cops, and started an investigation on his stalker, visited his bedside, and tried to knock some sense into him about giving up Dream’s identity. But he needed someone who really knew himself, and Dream. Moreover, knew the extent of his predicament. 

He focused on movement, and his body felt as if it’d been briefly charged with electricity. During that time, he was able to suddenly, but smoothly sit upright on his hospital bed. 

The feeling of his blood rushing down his system to return to a balanced distribution was almost therapeutic, and the way he lazily rolled his shoulders and earned a quiet _pop!_ from each was equally as satisfying. _God—_ he felt as if he were an ancient statue, that had just awoken from its thousand-year slumber. 

He rolled his head around, stretching and working his neck. He could almost imagine the dust and stone cracking with ease, and meekly flaking from his body, revealing his true identity underneath, miraculously untouched by time. He lifted his arms, moving them around as much as allowed, due to all the tubes. Next, he cracked his knuckles, and stretched his fingers. 

Looking down at his arms—the only place where he could actually see his skin—he noticed how incredibly pale he was. The pigment was almost identical to the bleached shade of white that was painted on the walls. He figured he lost a bit of blood with what happened, but to lose _so much,_ and for it to render his appearance so sickly bothered him to a high degree, and left a solemn, gloomy expression upon his face. 

He was interrupted by another officer coming in with a nurse. 

“Good afternoon, George. It’s very good to see you sitting up already.” The nurse smiled at him fondly, to which George returned the soft smile. 

“It’s good to finally have enough strength to.” He chuckled lightly, and glanced over at the cop with a nod. “I’m kind of peckish, by the way,” he added. 

The nurse nodded, and walked over to review each machine to make sure it was working as supposed to. The officer on the other hand, remained unresponsive. “I figured. I already put in an order for some chicken-noodle soup, if that’s alright?” 

“That’s just fine. Thank you.” 

The guy—judging by their height and build, ‘ _though it could be any gender’ he scolded himself—_ now seemed to be _staring_ at _him_. Though, it was hard to confirm. He had on a dark pair of sunglasses over his black mask, so he actually couldn’t figure out much of his expression, or where he was really looking. But if he was a guy to wear sunglasses indoors, he obviously was some sort of weirdo. 

Or just an asshole. Probably that. 

“Oh—! Before I forget, do you want anything to drink with that?” 

He teared his eyes away from the strange man, and looked back at his nurse. “Yes, can I drink apple juice?”

They nodded “Most definitely.” 

“Pog.” 

The nurse turned around and raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. 

“I mean—“ he coughs, “that's great, thank you.” 

When they turned back around to go back to their work, George couldn’t help but visibly cringe at that interaction. How the _fuck_ did that slip out. Ew ew _ew_ — 

_Hey_.

The cop’s shoulders shook in stifled laughter. George swore it even sounded like he was wheeze-chuckling. _He was laughing at him._ Holy fuck—that means he probably also _knew_ the damned word himself. 

George knew he probably had the most _damn_ embarrassed face in a long time, and he doesn’t embarrass himself often. 

The nurse finished their diagnosis on all the machinery, and nodded at the both of them before leaving the room. Leaving George alone with the cop. 

He was still wordlessly staring at George.

_Something felt….off. So very off. The butterflies began to buzz in an anxious frenzy. Wasps._

“...Anything you need, sir..?” 

The man continued to remain silent. 

George’s eyes drifted over to the emergency button to the right of him. 

_The wasps begged him to press it._

“Not really.” 

The cop finally answered.

His voice was…Pretty high pitched for a male. 

He walked over, pulling off his cap, and dark sunglasses. The man actually had a dyed bleach-blonde undercut, with the rest of his hair being quite short, yet falling quite nicely over his pale face. 

“Good evening, George. My name is officer Mattiahs, though you can most definitely just call me, ‘Matt’. 

This would have been the part where they shook hands, but of course, coronavirus. George just blinked at the information, instead.

“I heard you were dealing with a dangerous stalking case.”

“I… am.” 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “—Have you had any previous knowledge that you may have had a stalker?” 

George paused for a moment. An act, as if he were truly contemplating the question, and preparing his answer.

He wasn’t going to give Dream up. Lunatic or not, he was still George’s _best_ friend. And he would defend him to his fucking grave. 

Even if he had to end up in one for the fact.

“No,” he sighed out. 

The man nodded, and pulled out a notepad. “Understandable. From what you reported earlier, this was indeed an entirely planned incident, however. Correct?”

“Yes. The stalker had to have known about my life plans to make a situation like that.” 

The officer nodded, jotting some more noted down. “With that being said, how private are you, as a person? Do you post frequently about your personal life online?”

“I don’t—but I am a…er… Video maker. I do.. Youtube, and stuff…” He stumbles through his words, due to the sheer embarrassment they bring him by simply being uttered. “I’m also a twitter user… I have instagram… Really all the big social sites. But—I use an online persona. I’ve never posted anything about my home life at all.”

The cop nodded again, and wrote some more, before continuing. “So, that most likely means that someone _in_ your personal life is either the perpetrator, or an informant to him.” 

His face contorted from a look of shock, to betrayal, anger, then finally sadness. 

He thanked the fact he was a reactionary face-cam streamer. 

“Is there..a list of names you could provide in order to start investigating with?” 

_The butterflies fluttered. A reminder._

“Not… Really. I could give my address, though? If you guys would like to start searching around there…?” George suggested. 

The cop shrugged. “That’s a nice start.”

However, while George read off his address— _as well as other additional information_ —another officer came marching in. Interestingly enough, they were _also_ wearing dark sunglasses, and a black mask. 

_Must be popular in cop fashion_ , George supposed. 

Officer Mattiahs looked over at his colleague, almost as if he were questioning why he were there. “Are you here to finish up the interview? I just need some more information—like his full name, number, and the name of his stalker. Can you get that?”

The man silently nodded, swiftly taking the note-pad and pen from him, before turning back to George. 

Police officers sure were weird with their whole…staring and not talking thing. 

Just then, both of their intercoms buzzed to life with a _very_ alarmed staticy voice coming through. They both held the small devices to their ear, intensely listening to the message being relayed to them. 

Judging by the variety of concerned faces that Mattiahs pulled, it probably wasn’t very good news. 

After a few moments longer, the broadcast ended, and both officers stared at each other with dreadful looks. 

Mattiahs was the one to finally speak up about the unknown call. 

“Officer Steven will finish getting your information,” He began, “There’s been an….security breach.” 

_The butterflies cowered in fear of where this was going._

“An unidentified man entered the building no less than twenty minutes ago, and violently attacked hospital staff, and an officer.”

Mattiahs took a breath.

_The butterflies began to buzz._

“Either involved weren’t fatally hurt, but the officer was found stripped down to his underwear, and his identity has been stolen. I think you understand what’s going on about now.”

_Panic was unleashed inside of him. The wasps felt as if they were weighing his stomach down, and the sensations made him nauseous. If he wasn’t overflowing with dread, he could have thrown up from the pure shock of the statement. An impostor among them was undoubtedly terror-inducing to put it lightly, but there was indeed a tiny, miniscule chance that that intruder could ACTUALLY be..Fuck. His luck wasn’t the best, anyway. What if. What. If. He didn’t even want to think about it. Yet, it was too late_ — _the realisation caused him to be only a moment away from having a serious breakdown._

Shit.

_Shit._

_S h i t._

_He really didn’t want to see_ **_him_ ** _again. Not now. Not yet._

A cough from the current talkative officer brought George out of his mini-anxiety attack. 

“Thankfully, he’s presumed to be on the ground floor. If you’re in fear of it being your stalker, don’t worry at all. There will be several armed officers that can secure your room.” 

George relaxed a little at that.

Another update came in, and the officers brought their intercoms back to their ears to listen in. 

After the broadcast finished, the cops warily looked over at George. 

“Well…” Mattiahs started, “I mean—then again, it doesn’t take long to get from one floor to the next.” 

George could’ve pissed himself. 

Mattiahs walked over to George’s bed, and set a hand on his shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We can just call for backup on our intercoms. Everything will be okay.” 

George nodded, even though he was still trembling lightly. 

The intercom crackled for a bit…

And a bit longer…

“Hello? This is Officer Mattiahs. Anyone read?”

It continued to crackle.

“The systems might be offline.” 

_There’s no way that's a coincidence._

“Okay—It’s going to be alright. I need to go get backup. Officer Dean can keep you company.” Mattiahs nodded to George before rushing out of the room.

He never even got a chance to protest. 

_The wasps inside him didn’t like the idea of being alone with that Dean guy._

Said man, walked over to the door, closing it behind his colleague, and pulled the curtain shut. _As if_ it’d do anything, but it made George feel a little safer. 

_“I’ll make it look like an accident.”_

“What?” 

George barely registered the man speaking, so used to him not. But when the officer turned around, and began approaching him, he instinctively began to edge away from him as much as he could on the bed. 

**(DISCLAIMER: tw, threatened wr*st c*tting/murder-suicide. Skip to “We Need A Nurse in Room 214” if that's a trigger :) <3 )**

As his eyes darted around for an answer, he found the notepad on the counter by the sink, forgotten by the other man. 

It was obvious, but he refused to believe it until there was no other explanation. 

**_“Make it look like you did it, too.”_ **

_No._

**“The stress got to you.** **_And their only lead ended up as an end product of his own depression.”_ **

_N o ._

**“Or maybe your body ‘suddenly’ didn’t want to accept the IV anymore.** **_Who knows?”_ ** The impostor shrugged, amusement apparent in his body language. **_“No one,”_ **he answered, as if he needed to.

**_“_ ** **—Absolutely** **_N o . O n e .”_ **

Except for **_he_ ** , _of course_. 

_He was coming_ **_closer._ **

George remembered. 

His hand found the emergency button on the side of the bed. But before he could even press it—

**“Don’t you even dare. If you do, I’ll make it slow, and agonizing.”**

Shit.

But wait—

How could he even do that if the nurse will have to catch him for that? 

His hand felt sweaty. 

**“It’s game over,** **_George.”_ **

Dream was already at his bed, towering over him. He reached down and gripped the hand that George had over the button.

Why did he continue to hesitate? 

_The butterflies fluttered._

_The wasps hissed._

Why did it have to be _so confusing?_

He pulled a small dagger from his pocket with his free hand, and pressed it to George’s wrist. 

_He could’ve almost sworn he could hear both his own, and Dream’s heartbeats, drumming in sync._

Staring up into the darkened voids that were Dream’s glasses only made matters worse for the smaller male. There was nothing to read the other man with. Additionally, his mouth, lips, and nose was covered with a black mask, the item similarly uncaring to George’s dilemma. 

Dream, on the other hand, was free to examine _him_ as much as he pleased. Somehow, he could feel the hunter’s covered eyes graze across his figure, studying every inch of him. It was just as sensual, as it was spine-tingling. The unanticipated infatuation made him conflicted. 

After a long time, he finally began to feel pressure on his wrist—a weight that he could quickly identify was not Dream’s grip on his arm. It was a cold, precise pin on his flesh, that with each passing second, grew closer to pressing into the delicate skin the right amount, to allow for the warm, rose-colored liquid to seep from the seam. 

George’s breathing sped considerably as he realised the severity of his situation. 

It started as a whimper; quiet little murmurs that would escape between panicky pants, that formed into full-blown desperate breathy wails that implored the other man’s actions to cease. He began to writhe in his predator’s grip, shaking his head in disbelief, and anguish. 

**_“It’s okay. Just let it happen.”_ **

Tears welled up in George’s eyes.

“ _Dream. Please.” He begged on. “Dream, stop.”_

The other just hushed him, cooing reassurances over and over to the bedridden male. 

**_“You’re going to be just fine, George. Trust me. Let it happen.”_ **

_George felt as if he was going to throw up._ This is really how he goes? Willingly, because he didn’t want his friend to get in trouble? He closed his eyes. 

It was laughable. 

_Yeah. He would._

“George!” 

Mattiahs’ voice cut through the melancholy ambiance of the hospital room, making George’s eyes immediately pop back open, and lock onto the doorway that he, and four other officers were entering through. 

Dream tensed, and swiftly cuffed the blade underneath the sleeves of the stolen dress shirt. _He sure does steal a lot of things._

“Great to see you’re all in one piece, but I’m glad you arrived when you did.” Dream spoke.

He seemed to have quickly regained his composure, and straightened up his posture. It stunned him that his ‘colleague’ returned so quickly, but he needed to continue his act, or it’d be game over for _him_. 

“Matt, could you actually run back out for a moment, and grab a nurse? I think I’ve….Found something out—about George.”

George quirked an eyebrow, before glancing down at his wrist, where Dream held him. There, he found a few angry, red lines were lightly stretched across the surface of his porcelain-colored skin. Somehow, they were so gentle, and precise, they’d looked as if they were older marks that had just begun to scar. 

It was no time to be fascinated with the idea of that even being _a thing a person could do—_ but George couldn’t help it. Then again, Dream was always good with situations like these, where he’s caught off guard, and _‘there should be absolutely no way he’s getting out of this.’_ The man always found a way out of every dire situation with both sheer luck, and his ability to manipulate different people around him to end up helping him. 

George was envious of that, as Mattiahs came over to take a look, before pulling a solemn face, and reaching for the phone. 

“We need a nurse in room 214.”

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


He thought it would be comforting to know exactly where Dream was, but in practice, it wasn’t. If he didn’t, he would have had much less anxiety every time the man wearing dark-sunglasses got close to him. The other officers even noticed how he kept them on all the time, and began to lightheartedly tease him about it. 

Additionally, he was essentially branded as a ‘self harmer’ even though those marks were the _only ones found on his entire body._ A nurse was now always required to stay in his room, both to keep a watch on him, and to keep him comforted. 

In reality, he felt he was being babied. 

If the walls weren’t white, and the beeping of machinery didn’t echo around his room, he could’ve easily mistaken his surroundings to be a jail cell. 

He wasn’t allowed to leave his room.

He wasn’t allowed to use his phone.

_He wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom on his own._

It was so horribly infantilizing, that on several occasions, he found himself on the verge of a crying fit. But that would do nothing for him, except prove to the staff that he really _was_ unstable. 

Dare he forget the fact that his hunter was now right there in the same room with him, occasionally nodding and waving to him, as if he were toying with his prey. 

The hospital staff eventually _forgot_ about the fact that there _could_ be an impostor among them anyway. 

  
  


George wouldn’t wish this bullshit on anyone. 

  
  


As the days went past, and his entourage changed, the only constant in the crew was Dream. His nurses even swapped out every few hours or so.

But in a strange, _severely_ twisted way, that constant was beginning to comfort him. 

Sometimes, he even smiled, or waved back to the man—prey toying with its predator. He learned quickly, that even when only two officers and a nurse were left in his room, he didn’t dare strike. 

Dream was no monster, and he wondered how he could use that information later. 

More days passed, and eventually it had been a week that he’d been in the hospital—as well as a week and two days that he hadn’t spent any time at all online, because he was too busy dealing with…whatever the hell is going on with Dream right now. 

_Wild_.

Today, he’s finally being released, under the condition that an officer goes home with him to make sure he’s alright. To no one’s surprise, Officer Dean—also known as his friend, Dream— _graciously_ volunteered to be the one driving him home. 

The wasps were buzzing, indeed, but not out of horror—They buzzed out of pure _terror._

Being alone with Dream meant the man could now do _anything_ and no one would know, since it’d happen right in his own home. 

The officer that was supposed to be his protection, was actually his _predator._

And—to be frank, even though he had initially thrown suspicion on the other blonde male, he realised now that it would have been much better to have kept from burning his bridges early, just because of a lack of faith in his situation. 

The drive home was quiet, akin to the one to the forest preserve, just a few nights ago. Time passed as if the clock’s hands were trying to speedrun the rest of the month, and frankly, he wasn’t for it. 

_But, who was he to argue with something he can’t control anyway?_

Now, after twenty-three years of spinning on some bigass space rock, he thought that he’d be able to pick up the intricate motion of a car slowing to its stop. Unfortunately, this time, he was not able to recognize that feeling. So when he heard the locks on the doors pop up instead, and the world was no longer blurring past the windows, he found his heart had begun to drum in a crazed, unsteady rhythm, as he essentially returned to reality.

Out of his peripheral vision, he eyed Dream, as he watched him intently. He sort of wished the stupid mask, and sunglasses weren’t on his face at the moment, so he could see just a sliver of the other man’s expression. 

Alas, Dream didn’t remain silent for long.

**“Aren’t you going to get out of the car?”**

George turned his head to the passenger window, trying to piece together where he was. 

They were undeniably parked in front of his house, but George wasn’t sure why. Dream could have just driven him out to some off-the-grid location, and… He didn’t actually want to think about that. 

“Yeah.” 

He knew Dream hated one-word answers, but he had nothing else to say otherwise.

Dream seemed to study him all over before replying.

**“Will you need help?”**

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you.” 

They blinked at each other, before each got out of the vehicle. Albeit George’s exit was much slower. He still needed to take it easy, after all. 

The walk up to his front porch was…. Tense. To say the least. 

It was freezing cold outside, but George found that he was warm. Maybe because of his brain overheating itself, or the dread of an impending confrontation between him and Dream. 

Every step he took made each one to come after it much, _much_ harder to take. By the time he’d reached his front door, he felt like his feet were too heavy to even remove from the concrete.

George unlocked his front door for—really the both of them, since Dream didn’t waste any time coming in after him. He didn’t really know what he expected to be inside, but everything looked the same as they’d left it—Couch shredded in half, the window _still_ open, and even the lights had been left on. He figured that the window in his room was probably still open as well. 

A moment after that realisation, he found himself standing in the middle of the living room. _THE_ living room where everything started. The thought made him sick. 

His eyes surveyed the area anyways, recounting everything from that night. 

The curtains on the window danced loosely from their confines above, the wind kindly guiding the fabric. Glass shards still laid dormant, yet defensive on the floor, coffee table, and _severely_ wrinkled rug. The aforementioned little coffee table had few nicks, and scratches from so much of the sharp glass scraping across its surface before its less than graceful fall to its resting spots on the ground. 

George would have to remember to clean that up.

Almost everything in the room had evidence of Dream’s rage etched somewhere on its surface—except for one, singular framed picture. 

A photo of George.

It was a solo photograph, in which he was smiling at the camera during a sunset. He had a certain glow to him, that was probably created by a ray of sunshine hitting him in just the right way. 

He looked stunning. Beautiful. _Handsome_. And George could agree. If you asked him for his best photo? Without a doubt he’d pick this one. 

Though he had no idea why _out of all photos_ , this was the only one left untouched. It both relieved him, and piqued his interest. 

Turning, to get a look at the rest of the house, his eyes immediately searched for Dream first, who _conveniently_ leaned against the wall of the doorway back outside. 

He decided the rest of the house could wait. 

“Why are you just...Standing there..?” The improper sentence slowly wobbled its way out of his mouth. The words had an edge of uneasiness to his voice that he hoped the other man didn’t catch. 

**“...I… Didn’t know if—You would possibly need any extra help.”**

“I definitely won’t need any help from _you—_ but…” George trailed off, before continuing. “...The hospital. You’ve been waiting to end me. Why haven’t you yet..?”

Dream crossed his arms, and looked off to the side. During the time that they’d been inside, he’d eventually pulled down his mask, and now George could watch as he pursed his soft, baby-pink lips before he thought out his answer. 

George ignored the thought as soon as it came, but for a moment, his monkey-brain _really_ thought _‘That would’ve been a cute quirk.’_

“ **I—“** Dream started. And after a few minutes of silence, apparently stopped. It really was _seriously_ something to think about, after all. 

Unfortunately, George never gave him the chance to answer. 

“Actually—Why are you here? Right now?”

**“To watch over you. As I had said.”**

“ _Bullshit_. You said that for the nurses and you know it. _Why_ _stall?”_

**“...Because it’s not fair.”**

George blinked.

**“Believe me—I’m** **_pent up_ ** **with anger. And if I could,** **_I’d choke you right now._ ** **But that’s not fair. How can you beat the game when you’ve barely started playing?”**

Damn right. 

Dream took another breath before continuing. **“Besides. I want to maybe..** **_enjoy this,_ ** **for a bit.”**

Ah, so he’s a sadist. 

George looked away, processing his words. They were good ones indeed, but they were all _jumbly_ in his head. Game? Okay, so they were indeed playing manhunt, but—

**“I’m basically granting you spawn protection,”** he answered unknowingly, **“Since you’re just so** **_bad_ ** **at this.”** The jab made George blush, and turn back to the man, ready to return a sassy retort—but once he caught wind of Dream’s serious expression, he decided against it. 

**“I…nearly lost control of myself. Back there—in the hospital—I mean. I really…”** He trailed off once again. Studying his expression by the way his lips were cast down in the slightest, there was a tinge of possible regret, or embarrassment from his previous actions. 

George’s reflexes were eager to kick in, saying ‘It’s okay’ or, ‘I understand.’ Even though neither were truthful quips. It was great that for once, George made sure he caught himself before he said something like that. 

**“** **_Anyways…_ ** **”**

Silence uncomfortably rolled back in between the two like thick fog. Both were completely unsure on how to continue the conversation. 

Dream decided to start an entirely new one instead.

**“Do you need me to get anything for you…? Meds—Water, food..?”**

_A buzz._

“No thank you.”

Dream deflated in defeat. **“Why won’t you let me help you? I caused your pain anyway.”**

“I think..—“ George looked back at the ruin of photo frames and glass that sprayed across the floor, “—you’ve… You’ve done enough. It’s alright.” 

Dream began approaching him. **“It’s not alright.”**

George instinctively backed away. “It really is—actually—“ 

**“Why?** **_Don’t you trust me,_ ** **George? You need rest, and relaxation.”**

He wouldn’t stop advancing. 

George wouldn’t stop fleeing.

“I need..you to stop—actually—“ 

**“I’m trying to** **_help_ ** **you.”**

“I don’t need help.” 

His back hit the brick of the fireplace. 

Dream still didn’t stop.

George began to tremble. 

Dream noticed. 

_He stopped._

He furrowed his eyebrows behind his sunglasses. His mouth opened a little in surprise, then, shut. Then, opened once more to speak. 

**“** **_George_ ** **.”**

He uttered the name with a slight growl, of which only made said man look down, and shake a little more violently. The way he said it was indeed meant to be experimental, but he didn’t want George to react like that. 

_“George,”_

He tried again. George looked back up at him with wide, hazel eyes. Akin to a dog answering a call from their owner. _Actually—_ horrible comparison. George is not a dog. 

But for what it's worth, he liked George’s eyes. 

The man—he observed—was evidently less timid with his softer tone. He’d be sure to use that one instead. 

“...Yes….Dream..?” George finally answered, probably because Dream _himself_ took too long to even finish what he was supposed to be saying. 

Though with that, it opened the chance for Dream to ask him anything in the world. He knew exactly what he wanted to ask George. 

_“Are you afraid?”_

George’s expression remained the same.

“...Yeah.”

He wasn’t clear enough. 

_“No—George,_ are you afraid of me?”

Now he got a reaction out of him. 

George did _that thing,_ as he thought, when he began to blink a lot, and his eyes began to dart all over the place. 

Almost like he was actually computing his answer. 

The man hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth, before closing it—as Dream had done just a minute or so ago. He finally came to an answer not too long after. 

“Y….es…..” He drawled on, still reluctant as the sound dragged itself out of his mouth with great difficulty. 

Dream slowly exhaled. He deserves it, anyway. Why should he be surprised?

“I just—“ However, to Dream’s surprise, George kept going. “I feel… _butterflies_ every time you speak. But like—the opposite of butterflies. They’re angry, and wild. Like, _wasps.”_ George described. 

Dream listened intently, slightly cocking his head as he took in each bit of information. 

“They _buzz_ when I think about you. They’re so aggressive, too. And—and my bones—They _chill_ when you’re close to me. It’s like, my whole body freezes. Everything about you scares me, and I feel as if I’ve been frozen solid.” 

It took a moment for Dream to catch up.

_“I… Terrify you?”_

Tears began to prick at the corner of George’s eyes, as the wasps inside began to furiously eat away at him. _It hurt so fucking bad._

George shook his head frantically, as he tried to keep the composure that he was rapidly losing each millisecond. 

_“You petrify me.”_

Dream’s eyebrows raised in a sudden understanding. 

That explained the hospital.

The police. 

Everything. 

Dream felt his breathing pick up, and he started to become incredibly aware of everything. George in front of him—the bitter, cold air being let in by the open window, the aching weight of the brain in his very skull, from the fact that he’s lacked the necessary sleep for a considerable amount of days. 

Goddamn it.

He found himself in George’s eyes. His pupils were blown wide, and his dark brown locks of hair had begun to stick to his forehead, as the chilled man, somehow overheated. 

“ _I…”_

“I need—Some time, Dream. Alone. Please. You understand, now?” 

Dream shook, and nodded his head. _“Absolutely. Go ahead.”_

George offered a sheepish smile, before trying to move away. Though, it was futile, since Dream was basically blocking his path. 

Instead of trying to continue conversing with the man, he pressed a hand to his chest, and manually pushed him out of the way. Except, the action accidentally ended in using up the rest of his energy, and he began to slump down onto the man.

Dream short-circuited for a bit, but the second he realised George had _really_ caved into him, he caught, and held him without another thought. Unfortunately, this moment of vulnerableness for the both of them was short lived, as George immediately began to struggle in Dream’s embrace.  
  


“No...No.. Dream—” He insisted, clumsily pushing against him still, yet Dream quickly quieted him. 

_“Hush. Let me take care of you, George.”_ Dream began to lift George up, and attempt to shift him into a bridal-style position, but George was having none of it. 

“I said, no, Dream. No means no.” George huffed, continuing to squirm around. 

_“But, George. You need help. Just let me_ —” 

Dream’s statement was cut short by a loud _twack!,_ and a stinging, throbbing pain, quickly registered as an angry red hand-shaped mark that was planted onto his cheek. 

He put George down. 

The man slowly lowered himself to sit slouched on the edge of the fireplace, breaths rugged and uneven. Dream moved back a bit, giving him space. George set his gaze to the floor, examining the shards upon shards of broken memories once more tonight, before looking back up at the other male through his eyelashes. 

“I need. Time Clay,” he inhales, ready to continue arguing with the other man, but…

This time, he understood. 

He took a step back. 

And then another.

 _Sloooowwwwllllly_ turned…

..Looked over his shoulder, one last time— 

Then left the room. 

He exhaled. 

It took a few minutes for him to stand properly, but he eventually gained control over his muscles for long enough to guide himself to his bedroom. He was so awfully tired. 

The door was promptly shut—and locked—as soon as he set a good two feet into his room. He didn’t think Dream would come in and bother him or anything—however, he’d rather be completely sure. 

In seconds, his clothing found themselves strewn carelessly as a trail across the wooden floor, as he walked over to shut the window left of his bed. Too lazy to throw on a pair of pajamas, he flopped down upon the mattress. 

Unlike the hospital bed he’d forcibly become accustomed to, his bed was soft and _cold_ in a way that enticed him to crawl under the sheets, and ready himself for a slumber fit for a prince. Said sheets felt like silk to his skin as he slowly slid down further with the intent of bundling the blankets around himself like a cocoon. 

Such a simple feeling felt ethereal after everything he’d been through. If only he could exist in this feeling forever. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The sound of his own breathing lulled him to sleep that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How y'all doin after that ;D
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed. Next chapter is gonna be short, but I'll get it out quicker than this one.  
> agagaga lov yall hee hoo

**Author's Note:**

> So i began writing this in april of 2020, when i first joined the dreamteam fandom? But I honestly just. Never felt right abt posting this. After a while, and some encouragement, I’ve finally decided to go ahead and write this fic, because the idea still bounces around in my head. 
> 
> What is pretty cool tho, is that I basically have the entire story planned out. So there aren’t gonna be weird twists, turns, and fillers.  
> Im thinking thisll end up around 30 chapters or so but idk idk depends on how manh words a chapter:shrug: 
> 
> Anyway, according to archive statistics, 0% of you have commented/gave kudos, so please consider commenting, its free, and I’ll probably make new chapters faster. Enjoy the fic!


End file.
